Shelter from the Storm
by beaujolais
Summary: No one should spend Christmas alone, not even Jim Brass.
1. Chapter 1

_This takes place after ABRTI, back when Brass still had hair, a lot more to do, and didn't always wear a suit and tie. It also follows "Forgiveness" so it's best to read that before you read this. Neither Jim Brass nor Annie Kramer belongs to me. They belong to a bunch of people who didn't appreciate them nearly as much as they should. _

* * *

><p>Global warming, that's what this was. Monsoon season happened in the summer, not December, so it had to be global warming. Except that it wasn't warm. In fact if it had been a few degrees colder, Jim Brass would be wiping snowflakes off his shoulders. Instead he stood in the blowing rain, barking orders to two uniformed officers when he felt his cell phone vibrate.<p>

"Brass."

"_Hey," _came the familiar feminine New Jersey twang.

"Hey, yourself. Hope your day is better than mine." Brass moved away from the crime scene as the rain trickled down the back of his collar. Someone had handed him a slicker to cover his wool coat after it started raining. Finding it pointless, he'd tossed it aside. Not one of his best ideas.

"_It's getting better every minute. Where are you? You sound like you're outside."_

"That's because I _am_ outside."

Cold rain was coming down in sheets now, blowing sideways across the highway. He glanced at the slicker, regretting his decision to discard it. _"I hope it's not raining where you are. It's really coming down."_

His deep chuckle rumbled into the phone. "Soaked all the way down to my shorts." He pulled the phone away from his ear and wiped away the rain as one of the officers attempted to shelter him with a large umbrella that bucked against the wind.

"_You give me visuals like that and I'm going to have to talk my way out of a reckless driving ticket."_

Brass cocked his head at what she said. "How did you know that it's raining? Where are you?"

"_Just passed the exit for St. Rose Parkway on I-15. You remember what I said to you? I'm not spending another Christmas by myself and neither are you."_

Jim vaguely remembered Annie telling him they were spending Christmas together but he'd been working so much, he'd forgotten all about it. Turning his back to the officer, covering his free ear with his hand, he tried to keep his voice low. "Annie, I'm sorry but I really can't take off right now."

"_Oh yeah? Tell me truthfully, Jimmy. How many hours have you been working since Thanksgiving?"_

He rubbed his hand over his very wet head and took a very deep breath, slowly letting it out as he ran through several different answers. "You know how it is. Working keeps my mind off things. I'm not drinking, if that's what you're worried about."

"_I'm not worried. I told you, I didn't want to spend Christmas alone. Hand your cases off to your lieutenant and take some vacation."_

He sighed into the phone. "It's not as easy as that."

"_You're a captain. You can make it easy."_

Realizing he was losing the battle, he caved. "What's your ETA?"

"_About thirty to forty-five minutes."_

"Okay, I'm finishing up here now but I still have some paperwork to do. Meet me at the station—my office—and I'll give you my keys. You remember how to get there?"

"_Off Westfall, right? I have the GPS. I can find it."_

"I'll leave word with Judy, the receptionist, in case you get there before me. You can wait in my office."

"_See you in a little while."_

"Hey, Annie?"

"_Yeah?"_

"Be careful. A little rain falls and people go nuts. This much rain and people will start going apocalyptic."

**-xxx-**

The rain had stopped, leaving puddles of standing water, mud, and wet pavement in its wake. Thankfully, the temperatures were above freezing otherwise they would have had snow. Snow in Las Vegas was a rare occurrence but not unheard of, especially in the winter months. Jim had heard that back in the mid 70's, Vegas had a record snowfall of nine inches in January. It certainly got cold enough. The problem was the lack of moisture. Luckily, the two were almost never in sync.

Jim peeled off the water-logged wool coat and tossed it into the trunk of his car then climbed into the driver's seat and cranked up the heat before pulling onto the main road. He was cold, wet and tired but the more he thought about Annie waiting for him, the more he looked forward to going home. Not before grabbing a cup of coffee though.

Turning onto the dark two lane road, Brass was surprised that an area of Vegas existed that he wasn't completely familiar to him. If he hadn't been so desperate for coffee, he might have waited until he was on a street he actually recognized. Still, there had to be a McDonald's or a mini mart nearby. Granted, he was closer to Las Vegas Bay than the metro area but he didn't think there was a corner in the Las Vegas metro area that didn't have some sort of drive thru or gas station. Following the curve in the road, he hit a dark patch of road next to the Las Vegas Wash and realized he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. Pulling onto the gravel shoulder, he punched his location into the GPS, waiting for it to triangulate his location. Movement at the far end of his headlights caused him to look up. What he saw caused him to grab his flashlight and barrel out of his car, barking into his phone for backup as he ran towards the darkened truck parked several yards in front of him.

**-xxx-**

Thanks to the parking lot that was the I-15, Annie's thirty to forty-five ETA turned into an hour and a half. She was tempted to call Jim again but given that he hadn't called to ask where she was, she assumed he had his hands full and she didn't want to disturb him.

Inching forward, trying to keep a blue Camry from cutting in front of her, Annie wondered if she was doing the right thing by coming to Vegas. She knew she was giving him mixed signals, especially after telling him that she didn't see a long term relationship in their future, but maybe she should have questioned her own feelings before making such a pronouncement. Because truthfully, she missed him in a way she didn't think possible. Then again, was it him she really missed or the sex? He was easy for her, a safe and willing participant who almost always took care of her needs. With Jim there was familiarity. They each knew what the other wanted without any of the awkwardness that came with a new relationship. She liked that. And right now, she wanted some of that familiarity very much.

Craning her neck and seeing only a line of red taillights in the distance, she blew out a frustrated breath and impatiently tapped the steering wheel as her thoughts went back to their conversation. She'd hoped he was as excited to see her as she was to see him but having to convince him to take the time off left her feeling unsettled. Maybe she'd created a relationship when there really wasn't one. Maybe it really was just about sex. Rolling her eyes, she silently cursed her own self-doubts and quickly merged into the slowly moving right lane.

**-xxx-**

Jim wasn't fast enough to catch up with the driver of the truck. Hearing the driver's side door slam shut, exhaust fumes hit him in the face along with bits of gravel as the tires spun on the loose ground. Turning his attention from the truck's illuminated license plate to the swollen wash below, he could just hear a tiny voice crying over the rush of water. Shining the flashlight over surface, focusing on something pink tangled up in debris, he felt his heart drop as he realized it was a child.

Tearing off his jacket and tie, dropping his cell phone, keys and flashlight onto the pile, Brass knew there wasn't time to wait around for help. The child couldn't hold on for long, not with the fast water and the nearly freezing temps. And if she let go, the current would eventually carry her body into Lake Mead. Of course she would be dead by then.

Feeling his way through the scrub bush and discarded trash, his shoes finding a little purchase on the muddy ground, he half slid, half slipped down the hill, yelling for the child to hang on. He lost his footing as he neared the water, his right arm catching on something sharp as he tried to break his fall, and plunged into the icy water. Trying to keep his head above water as the cold hit him like a punch to the gut, his knee crashed against the rocky bottom of the creek before he could get his feet under him. Driving his body upward, he quickly found his balance in the fast moving thigh high water and forced air into his sluggish lungs.

It took two attempts before he found his voice. "Can you hear me? Hello? I'm a policeman. My name is Jim Brass. If you can hear me, let me know so I can help you."

Cursing himself for leaving the flashlight behind and just as overwhelming feeling of helplessness hit him, he heard the faint cry. Moving toward the sound despite the growing ache in his legs and the heaviness in his feet, working against the fast moving current and staying parallel to the bank, he continued to call out. If he calculated it correctly, she would most likely have fallen into the creek near the bank, probably caught on some of the creosote and other shrubs that grew thick in the usually dry channel. His new concern though was the rising water. In just a few minutes the water had risen to almost a foot and now came up over his waist. And the deeper and faster the water became, the more debris brushed against his legs, each time nearly causing him to lose his balance.

"Can you hear me? Yell or scream, anything. Just let me know where you are." His request was met with a loud, shrill scream that was nearly drowned out by the thundering sound of chopper blades overhead. The cavalry had arrived.

Just as soon as Jim heard the blades, something in the dark water grabbed the back of his right leg, restricting his movement and forcing him down with the current. Lifting his head out of the water, the icy bite of the cold air caused him to cough and gasp and flail as he fought off the surge of panic. For a moment the thought flashed through his mind that this was how he was going to die: drowning in a failed attempt to save a child. Another muffled cry in the darkness and Brass shook off the doubts. This child needed him and he sure as hell wasn't going to fuck this up.

Spitting out a mouthful of brackish water, he reached into the murky depths and tried to untangle the length of wire that gripped his leg. Sharp barbs stung his fingers but he didn't let up. Frantically working the wire back and forth until it finally released its hold on his leg, he pulled a numb foot up and slipped it through the wire, nearly losing his balance in the process.

A bright light appeared from above, illuminating the entire area and allowing Jim to see that he was only a few feet away from the pink shrouded blond head fighting to stay above water. The child, a little girl maybe five years old, was tangled in a mess of branches and what looked like rusted chain link fence. He faltered for a moment, wondering how he was going to get to her from his vantage without causing her further injury. The coat she wore offered a little protection against the branches but it wasn't going to do her much good if he ended up impaling her in the process.

His frustration grew until he spied a small clearing to his right. It was a long shot but gauging the direction of the fast moving water, Jim was almost certain the current would carry her away from the debris. He could wade out to the middle a little further and if luck was with him, he could grab her as she floated by. The problem was going to be convincing her to let go. It was worth a shot and until help showed up, it was the best he had. Besides, he didn't think she could hold on much longer.

He waded around until she could see his face and he could see hers. He needed her to trust him and hopefully, in the darkness, wet, and shivering, he didn't look too threatening. "Ok, sweetheart, I need you to let go. Do you understand?" The thought that perhaps she didn't speak English only just occurred to him. And while he spoke some Spanish, it was mostly limited to telling people to stay inside or put down their weapons. _Not very helpful right about now_.

The child began to cry again and even over the sound of approaching sirens, chopper blades, and rushing water, Jim thought he could hear her teeth chattering in the cold. It didn't take him long to realize it was his teeth he was hearing, not hers. He couldn't ever remember being as cold as he was at that moment and he was fairly sure he'd lost feeling in everything from the waist down so he knew he had to quickly convince her to let go. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure he would be able to catch her if she did. Still, he wasn't about to give up just yet. If he was going to die from hypothermia, he sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight.

"Please, honey, I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Just let go and I'll catch you and then we'll get you warm and dry, ok?" She turned her face towards him and for a moment, a memory flashed before his eyes. Shaking the image, he held out his hands. "I promise I won't let you go."

The sirens grew louder and all of a sudden so much light fell on the wash that it seemed like the sun had suddenly come up. Jim looked up to see nothing but bright lights shining down and when he turned back, he realized the child had let go and was quickly drifting towards the far bank, away from him. Propelled by a frantic sense of panic, he knifed his way through the water after her, ignoring the stabs and jabs to his legs. Extending his right arm as far as he possibly could, ignoring the strain in his shoulder, the tips of his fingers just managed to grasp the hood of her coat. With the current and debris pounding against him, he tightened his grip and in one motion, yanked her towards him, her small body skimming the top of the water until at last she was secure in his grasp. Cradling her against his chest, feeling her crying and shaking as he clutched her tighter, he willed his legs forward, wading through the icy water to the muddy bank. His left knee nearly buckled as the rushing water pushed him into something hard jutting under the surface but he was so close now nothing was going to stop him.

Two men stood at the bank, hands reaching forward to help him. "Careful, sir. Just a little closer."

Drawing every ounce of strength he had left, Brass put his head down and propelled his legs forward until he could easily hand her off to the waiting paramedic secured by a tie-line.

"I coulda used one of those," he said, spitting out water as he spoke, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Officer Mitchell stood next to the paramedic and held out his hand for Jim but Brass noticed the policeman didn't have a tie-line and waved him off. "Won't be good to have us both in here," he said and then managed to half crawl, half drag himself out of the water and on to the muddy ground before collapsing.

Seeing the pained look on the detective's face, Mitch called up the hill. "Need a little help down here! You okay, Cap?"

Brass rolled onto his back, sucking in the cool air, his body in shock from the cold water. He couldn't stop shaking but truthfully, he couldn't say if it was from the cold water or the fear of failing. Probably a lot of the latter, if he was being honest with himself. "Yeah, just give me a minute," he stuttered, bringing his bloodied hands up and flexing them against the cold.

Another officer appeared at Mitch's side with a couple of blankets. "Here you go, captain."

"Think you can make it on your own?"

He sure as hell wasn't going up on a stretcher. "Yeah, help me up." Brass felt every one of his fifty-plus years as he got to his feet, balancing himself on the muddy surface with an arm on Mitch's shoulder, and rethinking the idea of a stretcher when he realized it was a steep hill and he still couldn't feel the lower half of his body. A steadying hand from both officers twice kept him slipping back into the water.

By the time he made it to the top the adrenaline rush had completely worn off, replaced by extreme fatigue and a bone-numbing chill. He took two steps towards the ambulance before his badly shaking knees buckled under him. Thankfully, Mitch caught him before he completely fell and passed him off to two EMTs who guided him into the back of the ambulance.

Brass felt like he was in a fog as he was practically lifted onto the stretcher. Two more blankets were draped over his legs and mid-section as his wet, muddy shoes were slipped off.

Someone stuck something in his ear. "Temperature is at 93 degrees. Mild hypothermia. We need to warm him up."

"Sir, the warming packs will work much better if you lie back."

Complying, Jim was so cold he welcomed the packs they placed on either side of his neck, under his armpits and onto his stomach. The warming effect was immediate but he still couldn't stop shaking.

"We need to check you out," one of the men, his nametag identifying him as Doug, said.

"I'm okay," he managed between chattering teeth, blinking to try to clear the fog. "How's the girl?"

"We can see that you're okay but your temperature has dropped and it looks like you have a couple of deep cuts that are going to require some attention. Do you know when you last had a tetanus shot?"

He slowly processed the question, closing his eyes. It was hard to think, much less shake his head, the shivering becoming almost uncontrollable. Opening his eyes, he managed a weak "no" then followed Doug's gaze to his right arm. With the heat warming his core, the fog began to clear. He vaguely recalled snagging his sleeve on something but the amount of blood surprised him. He wasn't going to argue with the tetanus shot either, especially after all the water he swallowed. He couldn't remember the last time he had one and who knew what kind of filth was in that water. They hadn't had a downpour like this in a long time and when it happened, it always managed to turn up dead animals or a body or two.

A second EMT, this one identified as Asaf, pushed more warming pads under his knees. "The girl's suffering from moderate hypothermia and a broken leg, some pretty bad cuts and bruises..."

Mitch appeared in front of him with a cup of hot coffee, and after the attendant adjusted the stretcher so he could sit upright, Brass accepted it gratefully. "Thanks."

"She wouldn't have had a chance if you hadn't found her."

Brass held up the cup with two shaking hands and shook his head. "Only because I took a wrong turn trying to get a cup of coffee." Between the hot liquid and the warming packs he was starting to get some feeling back in his lower extremities and his teeth had almost stopped chattering.

Doug pulled away a corner of the blanket. "Let's get a better look at that arm."

"Hey, Jim," Nick Stokes said, kit in hand. "You doing okay?"

Brass eased his right arm out of his shirt and shrugged his left shoulder up to keep the blanket from slipping. "Yeah, I'm fine. You might want to search that water for my ass though. I'm pretty sure I froze it off down there." He pointed the cup towards a spot up ahead. "If these idiots didn't walk all over it, you might be able to pull a couple of tire tracks. It was a dark Tacoma truck, blue or black, maybe dark gray." He winced as the EMT poked his shoulder. "I didn't get the whole tag but I remember it had Nevada plates and the numbers: 6-3-1."

"I'll let Archie know so he can run it through DMV. Shouldn't be too hard to narrow it down. You think this guy in the truck is the one who put her down there?"

"I know he did. I thought it was an animal at first but it was her pink coat that caught my attention. Saw him carry her to the edge over there." He pointed with the coffee cup in his left hand. "When he saw me, he dropped her or pushed her and took off for his truck. She must have rolled into the water. I ran up, saw her pink coat in the water and," he brought the cup to his lips, "went in after her."

Nick shook his head in disgust. "I'll see what I can find. We'll get this guy."

Jim nodded, confident that Nick would do everything in his power to make it happen.

Putting his hand on Jim's leg, he gave him a serious look. "You did good, Jim. You saved that little girl's life."

Nick's words went a long way towards warming him up – on the inside at least. On the outside he still felt like a Popsicle.

"Sir, I need you to sit back so I can get a look at your legs."

Nick leaned in and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the deep gashes. "You're going to need a tetanus shot."

"Yeah, I know." Jim looked up through his eyebrows. "Don't you have evidence to collect?" he asked to Nick's retreating back. Hearing the tear of fabric, he looked down to see Asaf cutting his favorite pair of navy trousers from the cuff to the knee.

"Got several deep cuts here," he said, grasping Jim's calf in his hand and turning it towards the light. "And a knee contusion."

Despite being probed and prodded, Brass closed his eyes only to have his eyelids flutter open seconds later. "Ah, hell," he said, bringing his hand up to his head.

Doug looked up from the gauze he was wrapping around Jim's arm. "Head okay? Any pain?"

"Head's fine. I just forgot something." Sifting through the paper bag that contained his discarded items from the side of the road, he found his keys. "Hey, Mitch!"

The uniformed officer strolled over to the back of the ambulance.

"I need you to do me a favor." Handing the cop his house keys, he said, "I need you to head to the station and give these to a friend of mine. You can't miss her. She'll be the pissed off brunette waiting in my office."

Mitch laughed. "Sure thing. I'll have one of the guys drop your car off over at Desert Palm."

"Great, thanks. Oh, and when you see her, don't tell her what happened. Just tell her I was detained."

Mitch laughed again. "Yeah, I understand."

Jim laid his head against the back of the stretcher. Dragging his hands over his eyes, he was exhausted, chilled to the bone, and his body ached but it was all worth it if it meant the child was all right. Replaying the events in his mind over and over, the anger he felt towards the man in the truck continued to fester. He honestly didn't get people, couldn't fathom what would cause someone to toss away a child like she was garbage. He always felt a sense of pleasure when he could bring a child abuser scumbag to justice but he reserved a special kind of hate for this guy. When, not if, they caught him, he wanted to have first crack at him.

"Okay, Captain Brass, we're ready to transport. By the way word on the little girl is that she's stable."

Brass nodded his okay and pulled the blanket tighter. He wasn't too keen on going to the hospital but once he was there, he could check on the girl. He'd feel better if they could get an ID on her, maybe find her family, but knowing she was alive and stable was definitely a relief. Settling back on the gurney, he watched Doug slip a pressure cuff around his arm then closed his eyes and let himself drift off as the ambulance doors slammed shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Annie had been waiting almost two hours when Mitch arrived with the keys and told her Jim had been detained. She had been too tired to question the officer so she'd accepted the keys and headed straight over to Jim's house. It surprised her to find the place so neat and tidy. Then again, Jim was a lot of things but a messy bachelor he wasn't. His mother would have been proud. Of course after looking for something to eat and finding a nearly empty refrigerator, it occurred to her that the place was neat and tidy because he was never home.

Brass had finally called not long after she'd arrived at this house. He'd told her not to wait up and she'd been so tired after the drive and the traffic that she hadn't argued.

Annie wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep when she awakened with a start and found nothing but cold sheets next to her. Sitting up and listening, hearing the faint sound of the TV, she had been certain she'd heard the door open and close a while ago and had fallen asleep again waiting for Jim to come to bed. Slipping out of bed, she wandered down the hallway. "Jimmy?"

Coming into the living room, she could see the back of his head against the sofa cushions and hear the soft snores. He was dead asleep, his left hand around a half empty tumbler of scotch that rested against his thigh, his right hand tucked inside the partially unbuttoned shirt. Slipping the glass out of his grasp and setting it on the coffee table, she gave his shoulder a gentle nudge.

"Jim, honey, wake up."

Two more tries and he finally stirred, opening one eye, then the other. Bringing one hand up to his head, he looked around the room in a way that told her he wasn't quite sure of his surroundings. Maybe it was her presence that confused him or maybe it was whatever happened that caused him to drift asleep with the comfort of alcohol.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Annie's hand tightened on his shoulder, feeling the slightly damp fabric under her fingers. "Doesn't LVPD have enough in the budget to buy its detectives rain gear?"

Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he mumbled something incoherent and dragged his hands over his head before finally getting to his feet. Ambling down the hall and into the bedroom, he shrugged off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. Standing at the door to the bathroom, he tugged at the ends of his noticeably soiled shirt then fumbled with the buttons before finally giving up and pulling the garment over his head. "I need a shower."

"You're dead on your feet." Noticing the disheveled state of his clothes, Annie caught herself from asking if it could wait until tomorrow. The torn legs of his trousers were caked with mud, the sleeves of his shirt were stained with what looked like blood, and if she was honest, his hair smelled a little like a wet dog. "Should I even ask what happened?"

Jim held the soiled shirt away from his body, letting it drop like it had a disease. "How about I tell you everything in the morning?"

Her gaze brushed over his battered and bruised body and the bandages on his arm and leg. "Just tell me you're okay."

He gave her a half smile. "I'm okay. Tired, but okay."

"I don't think you're supposed to get those wet," she said, nodding at the bandages.

Brass held up his forearm and looked at it as if he was noticing it for the first time. "Oh, yeah, I think the doctor said something about that."

"Hang on, I'll go find a couple of plastic bags." She headed for the kitchen, switching off the television as she crossed the living room, and found two plastic grocery bags stuffed in a cabinet. Rummaging through a few drawers, she found a roll of duct tape. When she returned, he had stripped down to a pair of red boxer-briefs and was standing in the middle of a pile of soiled clothes. For some reason the sight made her smile.

"What?" he asked, holding out his right arm for her.

Her smile broadened. "You're cute."

"I was going for sexy but I'll take cute."

She held up the duct tape and cocked an eyebrow. "Sexy comes later, after you're clean."

He yawned loudly.

"And awake."

After doing a quick wrap job on his arm and legs, making sure to tape the plastic and not his skin, she turned on the shower then pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and pushed him forward. "If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm coming in after you."

"Honey, if I wasn't so tired, I'd make a point of not coming out." And with that he shut the door.

**-xxx-**

Jim emerged from the bathroom a short time later with a towel wrapped around his waist and smelling of Irish Spring. The lamp on his side of the bed had been left on, giving him just enough light to see Annie curled up on one side of the bed and to help him pick out a pair of clean boxers from his dresser. Letting the towel drop, he pulled on the shorts then crawled across the bed, and settled in next to her.

"You smell much better," she said, letting him know she was still awake. "Still wearing the plastic?"

"Nope." Draping his arm over her waist, he felt her arms wrap around him and snuggle closer. The shower made him feel better but Annie made him feel warm and alive. "I'm glad you're here," he said, his head nudging her shoulder. Her fingers feathered through his hair, stroking his forehead and in a matter of minutes, he was asleep.

**-xxx-**

Jim woke the next day to find himself flat on his back and alone in the bed. Hearing the shower running in the second bathroom, he rolled over and checked the digital clock on the nightstand, then rolled onto his back again. He wasn't surprised to find that he'd slept almost ten hours; he also wasn't surprised to find that he was every bit as sore as he thought he'd be. Closing his eyes, he slowly drifted to sleep again, only to be awakened sometime later by warm lips on his forehead.

"That beats the hell out of the alarm," he said smiling as her kisses trailed down his nose then finally found his lips. He slipped his hand behind her neck and gently pulled her closer so he could give her a proper kiss. "You shouldn't have let me sleep so long," he said, finally letting her go and watching her draw back.

"I hit my toe on the foot of the bed and let out a string of curse words. You didn't move. Jimmy, you were exhausted." She crawled in next to him, plumping up the pillows so she could lean comfortably against the headboard. "And besides, do you have someplace you need to be?"

He didn't argue. He had been pulling doubles and at least one triple since Thanksgiving. He wanted to say he'd put the Bell incident behind him but truthfully, he couldn't. And sitting alone in an empty house only fueled the urge to shove it into the bottom of a bottle. "I got nowhere to be but here."

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

Brass rolled over and punched his pillow with his fist then joined Annie against the headboard. "I'm on the wrong side of the bed."

"You sleep alone ninety percent of the time. How do you have a side of the bed?"

He looked over at her and cocked an eyebrow. "You're telling me you don't?"

She patted him on the thigh. "You're older and have more habits."

"I was married. Old habits die hard. Although after the divorce, I made it a point to switch sides."

Annie laughed. "How's the arm?"

"Just a scratch. The tetanus shot hurts more than it does." He tested his shoulder and stopped about halfway as the muscles protested.

"Usually scratches don't need stitches." She crossed her arms. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"You asked me that already." Jim stretched and yawned. "Can I get some coffee first?"

Annie got off the bed. "And I suppose you want me to bring it to you?"

He held up his right arm and pointed to the bandage. "I'm injured." When that didn't elicit a smile, he leaned over quickly and grabbed her hand. "Hey, I really am glad you're here."

Annie half turned and cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. "Good to know. I was starting to wonder when I called you yesterday if I'd made a mistake coming out here."

"I got a call out a half hour before my shift ended, homicide singular turned into homicides plural, and midway through the investigation, it started to monsoon. I was pissed off and cold and soaked to the skin. You didn't catch me at the best time."

"You're going to make it up to me later." It was a statement, not a question and her expression told him she was dead serious.

Crossing his heart with his right index finger, he hoped his expression conveyed how much he was looking forward to it. "I promise."

Annie gave him a long, hard look then rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically as she left the room.

Settling back against the pillows, he tucked his left arm behind his head and grinned. He really did like having her around.

**-xxx-**

Annie surprised him with a tray of eggs and toast to go along with the coffee. He figured she'd gone to the store at some point because he was sure there wasn't any food in the refrigerator or the pantry. He'd mostly been grabbing meals on the run in the four weeks since he'd last seen her.

She sat cross-legged at the end of the bed, listening to him recount the events of the previous night while leaning forward and stealing bites of scrambled egg.

"My God, Jimmy, you went into the water? It's a miracle you didn't get hypothermia."

He decided to omit several of the details as he continued, "Not sure how long I was in the water before help arrived. I was pretty much numb from the waist down."

She put her hand on his foot and squeezed. "You can feel that, right?"

"Yes, I can feel that." He gave her a knowing look and smiled. "But that's not the part of me you should be worried about."

"Oh? Should I give that a squeeze too?"

His hand instinctively went to his crotch as he shook his head. "No, no, everything's thawed out now."

"Good to know," she poised her fork, ready to steal another bite, "otherwise you'd have to be a little more creative when you're making it up to me."

Fencing her fork for the last of the eggs, Jim flashed a wicked grin just before he popped the last bite into his mouth.

Frowning at her loss, she set her fork on the tray and settled for a piece of toast. "You said the girl was alert when you got to her?"

"I couldn't find her at first and she wasn't answering when I called out." He finished relaying the rest of the events of last night, leaving out the part about how afraid he was of failing. "That reminds me," he said, dabbing his mouth with the napkin then moving the tray aside and reaching around for his cell phone, "I want to call the hospital and see how she's doing." Sifting through his keys and money clip, he found the slip of paper with the phone number he'd gotten from one of the nurses.

Annie carried the tray back to the kitchen while Brass made the call. The girl, Rosie Guerrero, was still under sedation but the nurse had taken his information and promised to have the attending physician give him a call later. Brass set the phone back on the nightstand just as Annie walked back into the room.

"How is she?"

He shook his head. "They've got her sedated so she's still out of it. Said the doctor will give me a call when she wakes up." He motioned for her to get back into bed then leaned over. "Thanks for breakfast," he said against her lips just before he kissed her.

Breaking the kiss, she slid one leg over and straddled his hips. "Is this okay?" she asked.

Jim Brass liked to think he was past the age of a horny teen-aged boy, that he had a little more self control now than he had twenty, thirty, even forty years ago. But right now the red lace that covered the object of all his fantasies was grinding against his junk, her nipples teasing him through the light cotton T-shirt, and all he could think about was how much he wanted her.

"It could be a whole lot better," he said, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt.

"I meant, am I hurting you?" She made him smile by lifting her T-shirt over her head.

"No," he said, his eyes locked with hers. "It's okay." He ran the back of his hand over the red lace, his attention now fixated on her panties. "These are nice." His gaze and his hands shifted to her breasts. "These are even nicer."

She ran her hands over his chest, massaging strained muscles with each deep stroke before moving on to his shoulders.

Jim flinched when she touched his right shoulder.

"Sorry. Is that sore?"

"Yeah, it's a little tender." He ran his hands over her back, slipping down to caress her ass, pulling her closer. She had to know where this was heading because his single-minded thought had manifested itself in his groin and the hardening evidence was now pressing against the red lace.

His lips grazed against hers at first, teasingly, and then their mouths came together, his tongue finding hers and dueling for several long moments. Annie reached over his shoulders and grabbed the headboard, her breasts now level with his mouth. Her nipples stood out, hard little buds demanding the attention he so willingly gave them. Jim felt her hand move to the top of his head, her fingers raking over his scalp, felt her body arch towards him and heard her soft moan of pleasure. The ache in his groin had become an imperative throb, leaving him in a battle to control his one singular thought. Thankfully, there wasn't time for the pleasantries of shedding undergarments. There wasn't time for soft, trailing kisses or words of love. Their needs were too urgent. And when the last tendrils of his control collapsed under the intensity, taking with it all rational thought, he was vaguely aware of her sharp cry, of the shudder that took her so hard she collapsed against him. He felt her heart pounding in time with his own, felt her sweat mingle with his, and felt the pulsing tingle of their union.

Screw the cardiac stress test, he thought, pushing aside damp strands of her hair so he could kiss the skin just below her left ear. The real stress test was sex with Annie without having a heart attack.

He had barely recovered when his cell phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. He was ready to ignore it until Annie reminded him the hospital was supposed to call. Reaching over, he hoped he didn't sound as out of breath as he felt. "Brass."

If the doctor noticed, she didn't let on as she gave him the news of the little girl's improved condition.

His gaze was focused on Annie, on the small beads of sweat trickling between her breasts as she leaned back and ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, thanks for calling." He started to hang up when something occurred to him. "Dr. Soltis? Yeah, can you tell me if Rosie has had any visitors? Her mother's there. Great, thank you." Tossing the phone onto the nightstand, he turned his attention back to Annie, who had moved off of him and was now kneeling beside him. Shaking his head as he spoke, "You know, you're going to be the death of me one day."

She leaned forward and draping a hand over his shoulder, kissed his forehead. "Can you think of a better way to go?"

Raising his eyebrows, he chuckled. "Just wait until I'm eighty or so. Now if I can move, I'm going to get cleaned up and head over to the hospital."

"Mind if I tag along?"

He started to say he didn't think it would be a good idea but he quickly reconsidered and told her no, he didn't mind. Having her along might help, especially if the girl's family was there.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he paused before he stood up. He was sore as hell with most of the pain centering in his lower back and legs. Fortunately, it hadn't bothered him a few minutes ago but he seemed to be paying for it now. Slowly taking a step forward, he stiffened and stretched then hobbled to the bathroom and shut the door.

**-xxx-**

Adjusting her panties and inching her way off the bed, Annie watched Jim cross the room, noticing he'd lost a little weight since she'd last seen him. He had always been on the lean side, carrying most of his weight around his waist, but it was his legs that always caught Annie's eye. For a short man Jim Brass got his height from long, muscular legs. Unfortunately, he didn't have the most pronounced butt, something emphasized now by the baggy boxers. However, what Jim lacked in the caboose, he more than made up for in the engine. Smiling, she fondly recalled how pleasantly surprised she'd been the first time they'd had sex. Thankfully, it wasn't just for show; he knew what to do with what he had. Annie always had a feeling that Jim had viewed that first time as a "one and done" but sex had been a drug and Annie wanted more. She'd pursued Jim but it hadn't taken much effort. He was definitely a willing participant.

Despite his sometimes gruff demeanor, Jim had proven himself to be a very astute, attentive lover, something that made Annie wonder just what was lacking in the bedroom that made Nancy look elsewhere. Then again, Annie only saw him long enough to fuck him and send him on his way. She never had to live with him and lord knows, living with a cop wasn't easy. Annie felt she was at an advantage. She was a cop so she knew what to expect. She knew the statistics: the divorce and alcoholic rates, the burnout, the suicides. She also knew that while some of the cops were really good guys, there were also a handful of assholes, guys who used the badge to get what they wanted or to feel more powerful. Although Jim could be an asshole on the job, he really was one of the good guys. After her first relationship with a cop, Annie had sworn to never date one again. Then Jim came along and that rule went out the window. What she and Jim had was never dating. Nor was it what she'd call a relationship. It was sex, nothing more, nothing less. But Annie wasn't the type who could simply have sex without feeling something for her partner. And thankfully, neither was Jim. He might not have been in love with her all those years ago but she knew he did care for her.

Hearing the click of an electric razor coming from the closed bathroom door, she knew she had no one to blame but herself for her current dilemma. He'd been out of her life until nine months ago. Just the sound of his voice over the telephone was a turn-on but seeing him again, feeling his arms around her, ever so briefly, brought back all the desire. She knew it was a mistake to ask him to her place. She hadn't intended it to be anything more than a reconnection, a brief interlude with an old lover. The sex was as good or better than it had been in the past but this time was different. This time there were no attachments.

Maybe this was just an interlude – a moment in time where they reconnect and then slowly drift apart again. Maybe it would never last beyond this week. But it _was_ different now. He loved her, he was in love with her, and she loved him. She still had her doubts that this would work. He needed contact. He needed someone who could be there for him all the time, who could catch him when he occasionally stumbled, and frankly, she needed that too. They'd never be able to give each other what they ultimately needed but in the meantime, well, the sex really was great.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to everyone who read and left a review. It's good to know there are still some Brass fans out there. _

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><p>Brass emerged from the bedroom wearing a pair of neatly pressed dark blue cotton trousers and a buttoned down maroon shirt with a navy blue tie, not yet knotted. Tossing a black Columbia jacket over the back of a chair, he stopped to put his badge in his pocket and clip his holster on his belt. Annie's hand on his shoulder caused him to turn around and before he could protest, she was slipping off the tie and unbuttoning the button on his shirt.<p>

"You look more relaxed with your collar open."

"You mean less intimidating to a little girl?"

"Well, you can be a little intimidating to the big girls too so yes."

"Point taken." He slipped on the jacket. "You ready?"

"Right behind you."

They were halfway to the hospital when Jim's cell phone rang. Glancing at caller ID, he flipped open the phone. "Hey, Catherine."

Annie listened to the one-sided conversation, curious who Catherine was and why his voice took on a much softer tone with he spoke to her.

"Ok, yeah, I'll try to stop by but you mind if I bring someone?" Whatever Catherine said made him glance her way and blush. "Yeah, yeah, that's it exactly. All right, we'll see you then."

"So I take it we have plans tonight?"

"Not tonight, Christmas day. Um, one of the CSI's, Catherine Willows, she's having this thing tomorrow." He ran one hand over the back of his head.

His uneasiness amused her. "You mean like a Christmas dinner?"

"Yeah, a Christmas dinner but she says it's very casual. Just a little get-together with whoever doesn't get called out. She does it every year for the guys on the team who aren't from here and don't have family in Vegas."

"Do you go every year?"

"Actually, I've never been. She always invites me but I'm usually working so she just brings me a plate of leftovers for later. But she knows I'm off tomorrow so there's no getting out of it."

"I'd love to go but if it makes you uncomfortable to have me along, I'll understand."

"No, not at all." He licked his lips and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "I want you to come with me. I want them to meet you. But the thing is, Catherine is going to ask questions."

"No problem, I'll just tell her you paid for me through the holidays."

Jim sputtered and laughed. "No vice jokes. Besides, Warrick and Grissom will probably be there so that's not gonna fly."

Annie stared out the window, watching as they passed a tractor-trailer. "So this Catherine, is she another one I should be worried about?"

Again Jim laughed. "No, you don't have to worry about her." With all the heat he got over Sofia, he wasn't about to mention that he'd once had a thing for Catherine, even if it was completely unrequited. "I'm definitely not her type. Catherine started around the same time I did so she and Gil and I have more time in than the rest. She's divorced with a teenaged daughter."

"So you have a lot in common."

"Yeah," was all he said but the sadness in his voice conveyed so much more. Annie knew he was thinking about Ellie.

They arrived at the hospital and immediately headed for the gift shop where Brass picked a soft, brown Teddy bear. "When Ellie was Rosie's age, she loved Teddy bears. You think she'd like this?" Handing it over to Annie, he regarded her curiously. "What?"

Holding the bear at arm's length, she said, "It looks like you."

"Oh, yeah? So that means I'm cuddly and not so intimidating?" He handed a twenty over to the smirking clerk and pocketed the change.

Annie clutched the bear tightly. "I've always thought you were cuddly."

"And furry."

"Definitely furry." She hooked her hand through his arm and together they strolled to the elevators.

**-xxx-**

The general pediatric unit at Desert Palm Hospital was much different than the other floors Jim had visited at various times. For one thing the other floors didn't have colorful murals of happy children chasing butterflies and puppies and kittens across a green meadow under the watchful eye of a smiling sun.

Jim and Annie stopped by the nurse's station and were directed to room 508, an open ward with six beds, three of them occupied by not so happy children. Rosie Guerrero was in bed number three by the window. Standing next to the bed was a short, stocky woman who looked as if she'd had several days of sleepless nights.

"Mrs. Guerrero?" Brass asked, leading the way into the room, Annie close behind him.

She looked up at him through puffy, dark eyes. "Yes, I'm Brenda Guerrero."

"I'm Detective Jim Brass, Las Vegas Police and this is Annie Kramer." He held out his badge and noticed that she looked at it very closely. Brass guessed the woman was probably in her mid twenties but she had a weariness about her that made her look much older.

She visibly relaxed, taking at least a couple of years off her face. "You're the man, aren't you? You're the one who saved my Rosie."

Brass looked down at his shoes before lifting her gaze to meet hers. "Yeah, that was me."

The woman quickly came around the bed and wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in a massive hug. Startled, he glanced over at Annie as he awkwardly hugged her back.

"I can't thank you enough for saving my little girl. You are a hero."

Brass broke the embrace and took two steps back. Holding out his hands, he waved off her words. "No, I'm not a hero. I did what anyone would have done. And it was just dumb luck that I was even there."

He felt Annie's hand on his back, saw the tears in the young woman's eyes, and knew he needed to stop talking. He felt badly for brushing her off but the last thing he wanted to hear was someone calling him a hero.

Annie handed him the Teddy bear, giving him a quick out, and Brass took it. "We brought this for Rosie."

Mrs. Guerrero smiled. "She'll love it." Turning towards the bed, she said, "Rosie, this is the nice man who saved you from the water. Look what he brought you." Already the little girl was smiling and holding out her hands in anticipation.

Brass handed her the bear and as she hugged it tightly, he couldn't stop the memories. Ellie had been roughly the same age when he got her one of those Teddy Ruxpin bears for Christmas. It had been _the_ popular toy that year and Brass picked one up at a police auction of recovered stolen goods. Unfortunately, no one told him the bear talked. Damn thing had annoyed the hell out of him but Ellie wouldn't let it out of her sight. She'd carried it around by its left ear until the ear had fallen off.

"What do you say?"

The little girl peeked up at Brass behind the bear's head and whispered what sounded like "dank you".

Jim bent down to her level. Rosie's face was swollen from several cuts and bruises, her right leg and foot encased in bright orange plaster, and once again Brass felt a welling of anger. Quelling the emotion, he flashed what he hoped was his best, warmest smile. "Merry Christmas, Rosie."

Giggles erupted as she buried her face in the bear.

"She's very shy."

Smiling, Annie said, "She's adorable. How old is she?"

"She'll be five next month."

Wincing as he stood upright, Brass glanced at Annie and felt a fleeting twinge of remorse before turning his attention to Brenda Guerrero. "Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked, motioning for her to follow him out of the room and leaving Annie to play peek-a-boo with Rosie.

Out in the corridor, Brass stood face to face with the young woman. "How is she?" he asked, digging his notepad and pen out of his pocket.

"Physically, she's doing much better. Mentally, well, thankfully, she's very young so she doesn't really understand what happened to her."

"Yeah," he said, looking up at her through his thick eyebrows, "kids that age are pretty resilient. You know what happened?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"You know who the driver of the truck is?"

"Yes, it's my husband." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Soon to be _ex_ husband."

He looked up through his eyebrows, hesitating before writing the information down. "Your husband? Rosie's daddy?"

"Yes, Carlos, Carlos Guerrero."

"You sound pretty sure it's him."

"I know it was him."

"Does Rosie know?"

"Yes. The first thing she asked me when she woke up was why her daddy pushed her into the water. What do I tell her? What do I tell my baby?"

Brass didn't know how to answer her questions but then it wasn't his job to answer, only to ask. It didn't mean he didn't feel for her though. "Any idea why he'd want to dump his little girl into the wash?"

"He found out something that upset him very much."

Brass bit his lower lip and tapped the pen against the notepad. "And what would that be?"

The woman looked down. "She's not his little girl."

Brass ran his hand over his mouth, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to control his rising anger. "So, Carlos Guerrero found out that Rosie isn't his daughter and his reaction was to try to dispose of her."

Mrs. Guerrero's gaze left his and her arms dropped to her side. "Yes."

"Have you seen Carlos since this happened?"

"No, he hit me," she turned her right cheek towards him so he could see the slight discoloration, "and then he stormed out of the house. Rosie was at his sister's. I didn't know he took her until I went to pick her up. I was on the phone with the police when the call came in that a girl matching her description was rescued from the wash. I came to the hospital as soon as I could and spoke to another detective, Mr. Vega."

Brass noticed the woman's eyes widen as she looked past him and as he turned around to see what held her attention, he heard her yell out, "Carlos!"

"You bitch! You cheating, whoring cunt!" A flash of black and a loud crack and suddenly Brenda Guerrero was on the floor, blood spreading across her left shoulder and chest.

**-xxx-**

Brass immediately knelt by the woman only to be pushed aside by one of the nurses. Still reeling from what just transpired, heart thumping in his chest, ears ringing from the gunshot, he reached for his weapon and quickly spied the back of the fleeing gunman running down the corridor. Dodging panicked visitors and hospital staff, he yelled, "call security" to no one in particular then followed his first instinct and took off in pursuit. Feeling the weight of the 9mm Sig Sauer in his hand, feeling his finger on the trigger and the trickle of perspiration on his upper lip, he squinted against the fluorescent lights and holstered the gun. He couldn't fire. Too many people, too much noise, too many chances he'd miss, at least that's what he told himself as he nearly collided with two orderlies pushing a gurney out of the elevator. Motioning for them to stay put, he'd thought he'd lost Guerrero only to see him grappling with one of the hospital security officers. Brass thought the man had hold of him but just as Brass approached, Guerrero got an arm free and punched the guard in the solar plexus, dropping him to the floor.

Yelling at everyone to get back, Brass was only a few feet behind Guerrero, pushing himself against a protest of already taxed muscles. Jim had played hockey and boxed in his youth. He was built for endurance, not speed. He'd never been a particularly fast runner, even when he was younger, and right now, he had at least twenty years on the suspect. Judging by Guerrero's tall, thin build, Jim was at least twenty pounds heavier too.

Fortunately for Brass though, Carlos Guerrero had no endurance. Reaching out and grabbing a handful of the dark green hoodie, Brass abruptly jerked the gunman backwards.

"Carlos Guerrero?" Brass barked, trying to get a better handle on the squirming man and praying like hell that he didn't pull the trigger on the gun he still had in hand.

"Fuck you!"

"I'll take that as a yes." Brass locked his right arm around Guerrero's right arm and felt his shoulder give, abruptly causing him to loosen his grip. A blur of fist and gun connected with the left side of Brass' face, causing him to fall backwards and let go of his tenuous hold on the gunman.

Guerrero lashed out again, this time landing a fist squarely on Jim's jaw before scrambling to his feet. The blow knocked Brass onto his heels but didn't knock him down. Launching himself at Guerrero's fleeing back, Brass managed to grab him around the legs and together they crashed onto the hard floor, sending the gun skittering across the polished tile. Guerrero kicked and fought, reaching out for the gun, but anger and determination gave Brass the strength to hold him back. Nearly losing his hold as the heel of the gunman's boot caught him repeatedly in the ribs, Jim ignored the flash of pain and lunged forward, driving his knee into the middle of the man's back.

Slamming one cuff on the squirming gunman's right hand and wrenching his arm behind his back, Brass tried unsuccessfully to secure the second cuff onto the man's left wrist. With perspiration trickling into his eyes, Brass repositioned his knee, applying more pressure and ignoring the stream of curse words Guerrero hurled at him while continuing to struggle. Brass didn't think he had it in him to bring him down again if he managed to get free but thankfully a second effort resulted in a resounding click.

"Is she dead? Is the bitch dead? I hope she's dead!" Guerrero yelled as Brass pressed his knee harder into the small of his back.

Hearing fast footsteps approaching behind him, Brass said breathlessly, "Carlos Guerrero, you're under the arrest for attempted murder, assaulting a police officer, and a whole lot of other shit". He leaned over to the side and reached for Guerrero's gun, letting the uniformed officers take over as he took a hard seat on the floor. Resting against the cool concrete wall, he gently fingered the cut under his left eye, not surprised to see his fingers damp with blood.

"Looks like he clocked you pretty good, sir."

Jim held out Guerrero's weapon by the trigger guard. "Hand this over to CSI and be careful." He scowled as the man was hauled to his feet. "It's evidence."

Looking up and seeing Annie standing over him, he was still trying to catch his breath but managed to grin. "Bet you never thought an old guy could haul ass like that."

"I was impressed. You're bleeding, by the way." She knelt in front of him and put her fingers on his chin, gently turning his head to the side.

He held up his left hand, showing her the blood covering his fingers. "So I gathered." Squinting against the pain in his face, he didn't want to mention that everything, including her face, was fuzzy. "How bad is it?"

"He cut you pretty good. You'll be lucky if you can still see out of that eye by tonight."

Feeling his heart still pounding in his chest, he tried to blow out a deep breath only to feel a sharp pain in his side. "Remind me next time that I'm a captain and I don't have to do shit like this any more."

"Gladly." Annie stood up and moved aside as a hulking man in scrubs and a white coat with the name, Dr. Lusk, stitched in blue quickly approached.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"I've had better days," Brass said, looking up at him.

"I can imagine. Detective?"

"Close enough. Jim Brass." He tried to extend his right arm to shake the doctor's hand but the effort proved too much. "I think I might have cracked a rib."

"Well, I'm a doctor so I can check it out."

Annie stood off to the side projecting what Jim had come to recognize as protectiveness. "This is a pediatric ward. I take it you're a pediatrician?"

Dr. Lusk smiled. "I am. Jim here is a lot older and bigger than my patients but I promise all the parts are the same." Lusk signaled to a nearby RN and rattled off a list of instructions. When she rushed off, Lusk knelt down in front of Jim. "Are you comfortable down here or can I interest you in a seat on something maybe a little easier on the backside?"

"I'm not attached to this floor." Jim thought he saw Annie smile and cocked an eyebrow at her.

Crossing her arms, she said, "Obviously dealing with children all day is good preparation for dealing with stubborn police captains."

"Captain? You're _Captain_ Jim Brass?"

Jim glanced quickly at Annie, expecting the next comment to be something about being the cop all over the news last month for shooting another cop.

"Sorry, the name didn't click right away. I heard about you on the news. You're the one who pulled the little girl from the wash last night."

Feeling more than a little sheepish, Jim responded with nothing more than a raise of his eyebrows. He wasn't aware his little adventure had made the news.

"I just wanted to add my thanks."

Jim looked at the man questioningly.

"The sound of one gunshot was bad enough but if you'd fired your weapon down here, I'd have a lot of panicked kids. Many of them have already experienced some sort of trauma. They don't need guns going off to add to their stress, not to mention mine."

Jim looked away momentarily, afraid the doctor might see through his exterior and recognize his true reason for not taking a shot at Guerrero. Thankfully, they were interrupted by the RN and two men wheeling a gurney towards them.

"Ok, we're going to get you onto a gurney. And before you say you aren't going to get onto a gurney because you're a tough guy and tough guys don't do that sort of thing, I just want you to sit on it while I get that cut cleaned up. It works better if we're about the same height. Here we go. Do you need help getting up?"

Brass shook his head. "Nah, I got it," he said but the sharp pain just below his right armpit made him think otherwise. "Ok, maybe I need a little help."

Lusk motioned the two men over then stood back as they carefully helped Jim off the floor and onto his feet. With a grunt, Jim took a seat on the gurney and ten minutes later, Dr. Lusk was all done.

"That was fast," Jim said, buttoning his shirt.

"My patients tend to get very antsy after ten minutes of sitting still. I've learned to work fast."

"So the key to getting in and out of a hospital quickly is to get a pediatrician to look after you?"

Lusk looked over at Annie. "The key to getting in and out of a hospital is to not get hurt in the first place." He flashed a broad, toothy smile. "But if you have to, yes, it helps. When you get home, make sure you ice that cut. It should help the swelling around your eye. And I know you have things you need to do associated with the shooting but before you leave here, you'll need to get those ribs X-rayed. They aren't broken but judging by the bruising, you could have a couple of cracked ribs."

Brass slid off the gurney, the action emphasizing the monster headache he now had. He really just wanted to go home and sack out in his favorite chair with an ice pack but there was still a lot of work to do. Swiping his hand along his left hip, Jim nodded at the man. "Any word on the woman who was shot?"

Dr. Lusk shook his head. "Sorry, I haven't heard anything."

"Thanks for your help, doctor." Jim shook the man's hand, aware that he still had dried blood on his fingers.

"Take care of yourself, captain, and remember to ice."

Giving a nod to the man, Jim's thoughts quickly turned to everything that had transpired over the last two hours. Sure, he was happy Carlos Guerrero was now in custody but where did that leave Rosie Guerrero? Betrayed by a man she loved as her daddy and her mommy possibly shot to death just outside her room, Brass suddenly felt crushed by the weight of the situation. This was the part of the job he hated most of all: innocent kids victimized by the actions of their parents.

"That kid's been through so much and now this?" He looked at Annie then looked away, shaking his head as he left her side and slowly walked down the corridor.

**-xxx-**

Brass went directly to the nurse's station outside Rosie's room. "How's Mrs. Guerrero?"

"She's on her way into surgery now."

"Do you have someone to call—not related to the husband – for the child?" He noticed that hospital security had roped off the still bloodied crime scene with yellow caution tape and orange cones. Obviously, they'd been trained for something like this.

"We're checking. Until then, someone from CPS will be here for the little girl at least until we can find a relative."

He watched Annie disappear into Rosie's ward and started to follow her when one of the nurses handed him an ice pack.

"If you're going to be here for a while, you might want this."

"I don't suppose you can hook me up with a couple of aspirin too?" he asked, accepting the pack and gingerly pressing it against his cheek. The cut didn't require anything more than a good cleaning and a few Steri-Strips but it still hurt like hell.

"Sure thing." She handed over a packet and pointed him to a filtered water dispenser.

Brass downed the Tylenol with a cup of water then took a seat in the waiting area under the green meadow. As much as he'd wanted to see Rosie, he thought his bloodied and bruised appearance might upset her. Brass leaned his head against the wall, rested the ice pack on the side of his face, and closed his eyes. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until someone touched his shoulder, startling him awake.

"That adrenaline rush bottom out?"

He looked up at Annie. "Hit the bottom and burst into flames."

"How's the head?"

"I'll live. How's Rosie?" he asked, slowly sitting forward and catching the ice pack as it slid off his face, setting it in the empty chair next to him. "Does she know?"

"They sedated her so she's asleep now but obviously, she heard the gunshots. She also heard the yelling and knew it was her daddy. She held onto that bear so tight, I thought its head was going to pop off. Needless to say, she was pretty upset and of course wanted her mommy. Breaks my heart, Jimmy."

Seeing the tears well in her eyes, Jim slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Resting his head against hers, he couldn't help but feel the same way.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Happy New Year! Thank you for reading and especially for reviewing. I really appreciate it!_

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><p>"Hey, Jim, I heard what happened. Are you okay?"<p>

Annie looked up to see a strawberry blonde woman toting a black kit and heading on a straight path towards Jim. Seeing the name, Willows, stitched on the front of her black vest, she knew this must be Catherine.

"Hey, Cath." Jim removed his arm from around Annie's shoulders, cleared his throat, and stood up, again wincing. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Funny, you don't look okay. Kind of looks like you went a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson."

Jim smiled. "Nah, still have both my ears."

Catherine laughed then shifted her gaze to Annie. "You going to introduce me or make me introduce myself?"

Jim pivoted on his heel and held out his hand. "Catherine Willows, Annie Kramer. Annie is a captain with LAPD. We, uh, worked together back in Newark."

Catherine slipped a slender hand forward and Annie shook it. "Nice to finally meet you."

"Finally?" Annie looked curiously to Jim who looked at Catherine.

"I missed the introduction when you were here last month."

Jim raised his eyebrows in understanding. "Word gets around fast."

"We were all worried about you, Jim. It was nice to know you didn't go through that alone."

Jim pursed his lips, giving Annie a wink before turning back to Catherine and saying, "Come on, I'll walk you through what happened."

As Jim led Catherine over to the taped off crime scene, Annie turned to see the familiar tall, lanky frame of Warrick Brown step out of the elevator with a grim looking Latino man. It didn't take much to know he was a detective.

Seeing her, Warrick said something to the other man and came over to join her. "Hey, Captain Kramer. If you're here I'm guessing Brass is around somewhere."

Annie motioned down the corridor. "He's with Catherine."

"I heard what happened. How's he doing?"

"A little banged up but he got the guy." Annie followed Warrick, filling him in on a few details as they strolled over to join Catherine.

"Hey, Jim. Heard you tackled the guy in the middle of the corridor."

Brass looked at Annie then over to Warrick. "Yeah, not sure how I managed that."

"I've seen you run. Not sure how you managed that either. The guy have a gimpy leg?"

"Or a crutch?" Catherine chimed in.

Brass chuckled at their teasing. "Let's just say there were a lot of obstacles in the way."

Warrick motioned toward the darkening bruise and cut under his eye. "Like his fist?"

Glancing at Annie, he smirked. "Do you see what I have to put up with here?"

"Jim," Catherine replied, "you know it's just cause we love you. By the way, I'm going to need your jacket. You're wearing evidence."

Jim looked down and for the first time noticed the abbreviated spray of blood over the shoulder and across the front. "Some of this might be mine," he said, handing it over to Catherine while she checked his shirt. "What are you guys doing here anyway? It's the middle of the afternoon. Shouldn't swing be covering this?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Smitty over-scheduled vacation and ended up short. Warrick and I volunteered to help." She glanced at Warrick. "We clock out after this one so let's get to work."

Annie noticed the other detective was now standing next to her.

"Detective Sam Vega," he said, obviously expecting her to follow suit.

"Annie Kramer, LAPD." She wanted to make it clear she knew her way around a crime scene.

"Sam, Annie is a friend of mine, here for the holidays. She was with the little girl, Rosie Guerrero, when the shooting happened."

Sam nodded his understanding and smiled. "Nice to meet you. Okay, Jim, how about you tell us what happened."

Jim led Vega and the two CSIs over to the pool of dark blood still present on the white floor and walked them through what he could remember.

"You're damn lucky you didn't get hit," Warrick said, camera clicking away as he began to process the scene.

That same thought had passed through Annie's mind as well.

With his little black notebook and pen in hand, Vega stepped back with Jim and Annie while Warrick and Catherine went to work. "What happened after he shot ?"

"He took off that way," Jim pointed straight ahead, "and I went after him."

"And where were you?" Vega's question was for Annie.

"I was with Rosie Guerrero. I heard the gunshot, stayed with her until a nurse came in."

"So you didn't see what happened?"

Annie shook her head. "No, just the aftermath."

"And what was that?"

"Mrs. Guerrero on the floor, blood pooling around her, yelling, screaming, and general chaos from everyone else. I also saw Jim heading that way," she pointed down the corridor.

"Did you see Mr. Guerrero?"

"No, not until Jim had the cuffs on him."

"So you followed Detective Brass?"

"Yes, I did. I might be out of my jurisdiction but I'm still a cop. Got past the elevators when a couple of uni's showed up. The three of us followed."

Vega asked Jim a few more questions and then thanked both of them before interviewing witnesses.

Jim excused himself from Annie and went over to Catherine and Warrick. Annie couldn't hear the exchange but whatever was said resulted in Catherine nodding her head in agreement. As Jim started to walk away, Catherine put her hand on his arm, causing him to turn, and Annie heard her tell him to take care of himself. Passing the nurse's station one of the nurses called out to him and as he headed towards the desk, she handed him a piece of paper.

Wearily walking towards her, Jim rubbed a spot above his left eyebrow and winced again. "I'm supposed to take this down to the ER to get my ribs X-rayed."

"Good idea."

Annie wasn't sure if it was a feeling of possessiveness or protectiveness that made her put her hand in the middle of his back as they walked towards the elevator. She certainly didn't get the stab of jealously that had been so persistent around Sofia but she'd felt a pang of disappointment when he'd introduced her to Catherine as someone he'd worked with in Newark. Then again, what was he supposed to say? Lover was too personal, especially for someone like Jim, and she was well past being called a girlfriend. Still, she felt the need to show that she was more than a co-worker from Newark to anyone who might be watching.

**-xxx-**

The piece of paper was a golden ticket to bypass the bandaged hands, badly sprained ankles, and general malaise that crowded the waiting room. After the X-rays, Jim and Annie waited for the doctor behind curtain number four. Unfortunately, the golden ticket didn't make the doctor hurry and forty-five minutes later he finally showed up, X-rays in hand.

"Mr. Brass, the good news is that nothing is broken or cracked. The bad news is that bruised ribs can be just as painful as a break and can take the same amount of time to heal. They also come with the same risk for pneumonia. Not much you can do but ice it." Reaching into his coat pocket, the doctor pulled out a small, plastic bottle. "I'm giving you a five day supply of Motrin. These are 800mg so just take one. After that, an OTC should be enough. I understand you were here the other day?"

He eased his arm forward, already feeling the after-effects of the fight. "Yeah, got cut up pretty good."

The doctor pulled away the gauze bandage on his arm and checked the stitches. "No fever? Head okay, no other aches or pains?" He tossed the gauze into the trash then motioned for Jim to roll up his trouser legs and examined the two lacerations: one closed with sutures, the other held together with butterfly bandages.

Jim tugged on the ends of his trouser legs. "Just a headache."

"I imagine so when you get punched in the face." The doctor turned his attention to Annie. "If the headache worsens, if he has shortness of breath, or if he suddenly develops a fever get him back in here as soon as possible."

Ignoring the slightly irritated look on Jim's face, Annie nodded.

"It's probably going to hurt like hell the next few days but you'll need to take deep breaths, fully expand your lungs, at least once every four hours. If you don't do that, the lung may not fully expand and that could result in a potential breeding ground for a lung infection. Ice for ten to twenty minutes every one to two days for the first few days and then warm compresses ten to twenty minutes every four hours. No smoking, no secondary smoke, and no heavy lifting." The doctor glanced at Annie then back to Jim and smiled. "You know, it's probably a good idea if you curtail any strenuous activity for a few days as well."

The doctor disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Jim and Annie to stare at his back. When Annie glanced over at Jim, he was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"I think he just told me I'm too old for this shit."

"I think he just told you no sex."

"I like my interpretation better." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his car keys and dangled them in front of her. "Would you mind driving?"

She took the keys from him. "Sure. I assume we're heading to your place?"

"Yeah, I hope that's okay with you."

Annie looked over at him, the possessive, protective feeling she'd had earlier still strong. "I'm perfectly happy to go home, put on some comfy clothes, sit on the sofa, and watch TV with you."

Jim looked over at her and smiled. "God, where have you been all my life?"

_Right in front of you_, she thought, holding open the curtain for him. _I've always been right in front of you._

**-xxx-**

Brass directed Annie to the neighborhood Chinese takeout and after loading up with Kung Pao chicken, twice cooked pork, steamed pork buns, and crispy egg rolls, they finally arrived at home. Annie agreed with his choice of the ultimate Christmas movie, _Die Hard_, which Jim had on DVD, and soon they were settled on the sofa, open containers spilling onto the tray Annie set in front of them on the coffee table.

Jim dug into the Kung Pao impressing Annie with his nimble ability to wield two pointy sticks between his thick fingers. Jim showed her the way to hold them but in the end, she used one chopstick to stab a pork bun and take a healthy bite.

"Think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs?" she asked, surveying the still uneaten egg rolls and a nearly full container of twice cooked pork.

"Give me time," he said, stuffing a bite of Kung Pao into his mouth. "I'm just getting started."

True to his word, Jim finished off the remaining contents of both containers along with the last crispy egg roll. Annie took the tray and the two remaining steamed pork buns back to the kitchen while Jim tried to get comfortable.

Returning to the living room, she carried two bags of frozen vegetables. "Peas or corn?"

Brass looked at her sideways. "Huh?"

Holding up the bags, she said, "World's best ice pack. Which one do you want for your ribs?"

"Corn. The peas will probably feel better on my face."

"I'm not going to question your logic. Why don't you move over to the recliner? Looks like it might be easier to get comfortable over there."

Jim agreed, grimacing at the pain any sort of movement caused. Settling into the chair, he closed his eyes, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside, then very slowly exhaled.

"I bruised a couple of ribs once. Believe me when I say I know what you're feeling."

Opening one eye, he looked up at her. "Oh yeah? How'd you do it?"

"We were busting up a prostitution ring. I was covering the back door only I didn't stand back far enough. Door flew open and the handle popped me in the side."

"Lesson learned?"

"Don't stand behind a door that opens out."

If it hadn't hurt so much, he would have laughed out loud.

Using a pillow to hold it in place, Annie put the frozen corn against his right side. "How's that feel?"

"Pretty good." He gently placed the frozen peas against his bruised, swollen face.

Annie grabbed a blanket and snuggled onto the sofa and by the time John McClane uttered _yippee-ki-yay, mother fucker_ to Hans Gruber, she and Jim were fast asleep.

**-xxx-**

Opening one eye, he stared at the white ceiling before turning his gaze over to the sleeping woman next to him. Well, almost next to him. Annie was hugging the side of the bed, her bare back to him. Reaching out, he lightly traced his finger along her shoulder blade and then smiled when she rolled over to face him.

"So what did you do, carry me to bed?"

"Hardly." She laughed. "Took a couple of tries to get you up though. You were out."

"I must have been. I don't remember getting up at all."

"Do you remember waking up and cursing a blue streak a couple of times during the night?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." His gaze dropped. "Sleeping any way but on my back isn't going to be an option for a while."

"Prop a pillow against your side. That will keep you from rolling over."

"You don't have to stay over there you know," he said, referring to the distance still between them on the bed.

"How about tonight we switch sides then? That way I'll be on your left. Think you could cope with sleeping on the wrong side of the bed?"

"I'll sacrifice." He grabbed the bottle of Motrin sitting on the nightstand, popped a pill and swallowed it dry.

Annie rolled onto her side, leaned on her elbow, and gave him an appraising look.

He turned his head so she could get a better look at the left side of his face. "Well?"

"It's about three shades of purple with a nice hint of yellow but I think the peas helped keep a lot of the swelling down. How's it feel?"

Jim fingered his cheek. "Sore and hot. At least my eye didn't swell shut."

"No, but it's definitely puffy under your eye." Annie pointed at his chest. "Now _that_ looks nasty."

Jim glanced down. Just below his right nipple he could see the horseshoe shaped imprint outlined in a kaleidoscope of dark colors. "Trust me, it feels as bad as it looks." Stretching his left arm over his body, he ran his fingertips down the length of her arm.

"Uh, uh." She waggled her finger at him. "You heard the doctor. No strenuous activity for a few days. I don't want to do anything to hurt you or for you to hurt yourself."

"The thought of what I'd have to do to get you in a position to hurt me is kind of turning me on. Come on, switch." He scooted to the other side, using his elbow as leverage and realized immediately what a mistake that was. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for the sharp stab of pain in his side to pass then slowly exhaled as Annie crawled over him. When she reached the other side, she swatted him on the leg.

"What's that for?" he asked, opening one eye and then the other.

"You're a dirty old man!"

"I like to think of myself as a deprived old man." He grinned.

"I stand by my statement." She leaned over and kissed him. "You know, the first time you woke up cursing, I was afraid you were having another nightmare. Are you still having them?"

Jim brought his hand up and scratched the middle of his chest. "No, not like I was. They come and go with the job. You know how that goes." He looked over and gave her a half smile.

"How's the counseling going?"

"Okay, I guess. Not sure how it's supposed to help."

"You went through a fairly traumatic experience. I'm sure they just want to make sure you're dealing with the stress."

"So you think it's a good idea?"

She gave him a very stern look. "Yes, I do. Jimmy," she put her hand on his cheek, "you had some very bad nightmares and now you're telling me you're not having them like before. Well, maybe it's helping."

He grew quiet, thinking back to his last session with the counselor.

"_Good detectives are often quite damaged because their personal life gets the heave-ho. You choose work over a personal life."_

"_You watch too much TV."_

"_I watch very little TV."_

_Shrugging, he said, "Being a cop is easier than my personal life. The lines are more defined."_

"_You say that like someone who's been in a few troubled relationships."_

_He motioned with his chin towards the manila folder on her lap. "I'm surprised there isn't a footnote in my file."_

_Her eyes perused the sheet of paper. "You've been divorced for quite some time. Do you find it hard to maintain relationships?"_

_Jim shrugged. "I don't have relationships."_

"_Oh? Would you like to elaborate?"_

"_Not really. The problem with being a cop is that you get so wrapped up in the case or the next case after that or the one after that, you forget to have a personal life. And when someone does come along, and you think maybe she's someone you could be happy with, either she's got her own career and doesn't want to give it up or she can't take the hours you work and starts fooling around."_

"_Your ex-wife cheated on you?"_

"_Yeah, she was a peach. Couldn't take the hours and started messing around with one of the guys in my unit."_

Shrugging, he still wasn't sure he agreed with Annie. "So far all I think we've established is that I choose work over a personal life and middle-aged men do well in relationships." This time he looked at her and smirked. "I asked her if she'd write me a prescription for a girlfriend."

"Oh yeah? How'd that work for you?"

"You're here, aren't you?" He smiled smugly before pulling the sheet up.

"Jimmy, are you okay? I mean, with everything that happened yesterday, a woman shot right in front of you…"

He could tell by the intense look in her eyes that she really was worried about him. "Sometimes I think I've been doing this job too long." Shaking his head, he ran his hand over his mouth, felt the rough stubble of his beard. Truth was, he found it hard to feel anything for Brenda Guerrero. She'd cheated on her husband and had a kid by another man. The similarities weren't lost on him.

Rosie was about the same age as Ellie was when he found out for sure that she wasn't his and he couldn't deny the hostility he'd felt towards Nancy. But that was the difference. He'd never felt differently about Ellie. Whether it was his sperm or someone else's, she was his kid and he would have done everything to protect her. The thought of someone trying to harm a little girl, an innocent child caught up in the mistakes of adults, made his blood boil and for one brief instant, he actually wanted to kill Carlos Guerrero. That was the thought he tried to shake from his mind when he reached over and stroked Annie's hand.

"You got awfully quiet," she said.

"Just thinking." It was Sam Vega's case now so the hospital wouldn't call him if Brenda Guerrero died but he'd hoped that Vega would at least let him know.

"I was thinking too – about something Warrick said. Something that I took for granted."

"What was that?"

"He said that you were lucky Guerrero didn't shoot you too." Annie tried to smile at him but a sudden welling of emotion caused her lower lip to tremble and her eyes to crinkle as she fought back tears. "I know it's ridiculous to feel this way. I know you're okay. But if something had happened to you…" Annie looked up at the ceiling and wiped away a tear before looking at him and smiling.

Brass watched her, feeling his own threatening emotions. He'd been too close to the situation to think about what could have happened but he was surprised and touched by her reaction. "Hey," he said, trying to ignore the sharp stab of pain and rolling onto his left side. Covering her hand with his, he said, "It's not ridiculous." He brought his hand up to her cheek, not really knowing how to put into words how he felt. "It means a lot to know someone actually cares about me. I haven't had that in a long time."

Annie pulled away enough for him to see more tears fall from the corners of her eyes. "Jimmy, don't ever think no one cares about you. I saw how much they care first hand when I was here last time and I saw it again at the hospital. Hell, I don't think anyone is looking out for you as much as Warrick Brown. This isn't New Jersey. You're not alone here. You have friends who care about you, who have your back, and even though I can't always be here, you have me."

"You realize you're just making me love you more, right?" He wavered momentarily, pausing until the pain in his side diminished, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Having you here is probably the best present I could ever get." He was feeling sentimental now and truly meant what he said. Since he'd been in Las Vegas he'd spent every Christmas alone or at work. To him the holiday had become just another day but today felt different.

Resting his head against her shoulder, he closed his eyes. If he could have a Christmas wish, it would be to wake up next to her every day. But it would take a Christmas miracle for that to happen. The reality was that in a few days Annie would be back in L.A. and he'd return to his lonely existence of long hours, not enough sleep, and meals on the run. Already he could feel the void creeping back into his heart.

He knew he was kidding himself with Annie. This was just another version of their affair, albeit this time he wasn't cheating on anyone. But the outcome was the same. Soon enough they'd drift apart but still exchange Christmas cards until one year there'd be no card. Eventually, he'd hear through the grapevine that she'd married a banker a few years older who could bring her stability and happiness. He'd be happy for her of course but part of him would always regret…

The feel of her hand stroking the back of his head brought him out of his reverie and with a loud grunt that helped cancel out the pain, he rolled onto his back.

She leaned forward on bent elbow. "Thinking again?"

"Yeah." He smiled apologetically. He hated the dark thoughts, hated the depression he could already feel waiting on the fringes.

"Just so you know I'm happy to be here with you. Spending Christmas alone was fine for the first couple of years. Now it's just depressing."

"If it weren't for the reminder on the calendar, it'd be just another day."

Annie nodded. "I tried to get in the spirit. I used to buy a small, live tree my first couple of Christmases in L.A. It got to be such a hassle that I never put a tree up again. Unfortunately, I have friends and relatives who send me ornaments every year."

"So you have a closet full of them?"

"It's a big box in the garage actually."

"Yeah, I have one of those big boxes too. Every year my mom would send me these commemorative brass ornaments cause you know," he pointed at himself, "Brass."

"Oh," shaking her head and laughing, "that's bad."

He raised and lowered his eyebrows in agreement. "I miss being around little kids at Christmas. When Ellie was little, it was all we could do to get her to sleep on Christmas Eve. At the break of dawn we'd hear this piercing squeal that would make the neighbor's dog bark. That's what I miss."

"You liked that, didn't you? The whole family thing."

"Yeah, I did. When I first got married, I had this idea that we'd have a big family. Then the kids didn't happen but there was still Ellie and I never gave up my dream that one day she'd get married and I'd spoil the hell out of my grandkids. Now I'm not holding my breath that's ever gonna happen."

Annie brushed the short, soft hair on the top of his head. "I never knew how much you wanted kids."

"I grew up in an Irish Catholic family in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. My dad was the oldest of seven and my mom was one of nine. There was always a brother or sister or two living with us and holiday dinners were standing room only. Big families were all I knew."

"But it was just you and your brother, right?"

"Yeah, mom had some sort of…" he waved his hand, "you know, problem, after she had me and that was all the kids she could have. I grew up thinking my dad blamed me."

"Jimmy, you know that's ridiculous."

"Yeah, but when you're a kid and you hear it enough, you start to believe it."

"Not from your mother. She didn't believe that, did she?"

Jim looked up at the ceiling and smiled at the memory of his mother. "Nah, my mom was a saint."

"So you were a mama's boy."

"I was the youngest. You bet I was."

"I remember hearing your mom passed away but is your dad still alive?"

"Mom passed away before I moved to Vegas. Dad followed about a year or so later. Honestly, I don't think he wanted to live after mom died. My dad was an angry man, a royal son of a bitch, but he loved my mom." Jim looked at Annie. "That's what I wanted. That's what I thought I had with Nancy when we got married." He shook his head, letting the rest of his thoughts remain unspoken.

"Do you want more kids?"

Jim looked at her, surprised by her question, and then frowned. "If you'd asked me that fifteen, sixteen years ago, I'd have said yes."

"Fifteen, sixteen years ago you were still married."

"Yeah, well, just add it to the list of my lifetime of regrets."

"Don't think you've cornered the market on those regrets, Jimmy. Are you hungry?"

He shook his head. "Just coffee. I had a slightly disturbing dream last night about frozen vegetables."

"The way you finished off that Chinese food, I'm surprised you didn't have a nightmare about Kung Pao."

"Now that you mention it, I vaguely recall Grissom morphing into Mr. Peanut." He grabbed her hand before she could get up. "What about you, Annie? After Evan, I mean. Did you ever consider having more kids?"

"Not right away. After Evan's death I couldn't even think about having another baby. The pain was just too raw. To get my mind off him, I buried myself in the job. I dated but nothing serious. No one wants to get involved with someone who chooses work over a personal life." She raised an eyebrow at him and he responded with a knowing nod. "I made a lot of sacrifices, moved up the ranks quickly, and made captain before I was forty. I don't like to think about what I missed or what could have been. I made my choices." She pushed herself off the bed and disappeared down the hall.

Brass watched her go, feeling a twinge of sadness as she left the room. He understood those choices; he'd made many of the same ones. But he knew the sacrifices she'd made to get where she was and he couldn't help feeling at least a little bit responsible.

Annie came back a few minutes later carrying two mugs of coffee. Handing one over to him, she sat down on the edge of the bed, her back to him. "Sorry if I was a little short with you." She blew on the hot liquid before taking a sip. "You have regrets, I have regrets and one of them is putting my career before my personal life. At the time I didn't think anything of it and now," she shrugged, "what's done is done, I guess."

Jim rested his mug on his thigh. "What would you have done differently?"

Annie was quiet for a few minutes, obviously thinking about the question. "I would have dated more, maybe said yes when my friends wanted me to go out."

"You weren't waiting on me were you?"

She slowly turned, giving him a long look over her shoulder. "Don't flatter yourself."

Jim raised his eyebrows as he brought the mug to his lips. Maybe he deserved that.

"I wanted to make captain. After that I thought everything else would fall into place."

"Did it?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I better stop asking questions."

Folding her leg under her, she settled onto the bed. "You keep talking about being too old for the job. Have you thought about packing it in? You've got enough time under your belt. You're coming up on 25 years. You could retire."

"And what would I do then?"

"I don't know, move to L.A., maybe get married."

"You know a nice girl who cooks?"

"I might."

"That's what it would take, huh?"

"It's not an ultimatum but you and I both know we can't do this from a distance."

"We could try."

"Long distance relationships don't work for guys and especially not for you."

Jim felt himself grow defensive. "Oh, and you know this how?"

"Jimmy, we've been down this road before. I'm not going to rehash it again."

Deep down Jim knew she was right. He hated to think how far into the bottle he might have crawled if she hadn't been willing to drop everything and come to Vegas last month. But what about the next time? She'd told him before that he needed someone to physically lean on and if he were being honest with himself, he couldn't deny it.

"Look, you can't be a homicide detective forever. The last couple of days have taken quite a toll on you. Do you really see yourself in a foot pursuit or knocking on doors two or three years from now?"

Whether she knew it or not, those were questions he'd been asking himself quite a bit since the shooting. He couldn't help but think there were others around the department who thought the same thing. Maybe it was his pride but the last thing he wanted to admit to anyone was that he was getting too old for the job. "That's been my choice. I like being out in the field, running an investigation. I don't want to be stuck inside riding a desk all day."

"I know you don't but you're a captain, not a sergeant or even a lieutenant. I don't know any captains who are still running cases like you are. That's what your detectives do."

"I'm a detective first and foremost. Captain's just a rank. I have to think about it. There's still a question of what I'd do after I retire."

"Do you really need to do anything? You're going to retire with a pretty healthy pension. Vegas or L.A., you won't need to work."

"Yeah, because my wife will support me." He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I need to stay busy or you're going to get sick of me fast."

"What about working with some of these intercity kids? Maybe teach them how to play hockey or box?"

The idea of working with kids actually appealed to him. It would help him right some of the wrongs he'd made with Ellie. "It's a big decision, definitely not one I can make overnight." He reached out and caressed her shoulder. "Let me give it some thought, okay?"

Annie rested her hand over his. "That's all I ask."


	5. Chapter 5

Standing in front of the mirror, looking at the battered image staring back, he had to accept the reality. Chasing a fleeing suspect down a corridor or venturing into ice cold rushing water wasn't something he did every day but it still happened. He was getting older and slower and grayer. If Guerrero had been running down an alley, there was no way he could have caught him. How many more suspects would go free because he couldn't keep up?

Maybe Annie was right.

Reaching in to turn on the hot water, he had to admit he kind of liked the idea of packing it in, especially after the year he'd had. He could retire, sell his house, maybe convince Annie to buy a bigger place with a swimming pool, and get married. He needed to check on his pension but Annie was probably right about not having to work. Still, he'd need to do something otherwise the memories would eat him alive.

Between the jungles of Southeast Asia and the streets and alleys of Newark and Las Vegas, death had been a part of his life for the last thirty-five years. Sure there were nightmares but for the most part he'd always been able to keep the door shut on the horrors that he'd witnessed over the years. As long as he had a purpose, as long as there was the reward of getting scum off the streets, he could cope with all that he'd seen. But once he retired, once he took away that outlet, he worried that the door might open and all those images, all those memories, would pour out. And then it would only be a matter of time before he looked to the bottle for solace.

Stepping into the shower, letting out an audible grunt as the hot water made contact with sore muscles, he rested the palms of his hands against the cool tile and let the steaming jets cascade over his back. He wanted to tell Annie yes. He wanted to tell her that he'd march into Sheriff Burdick's office tomorrow and hand him his resignation but he couldn't do it. He wasn't ready and he knew if he did it just to make her happy, it was for all the wrong reasons.

Turning around, he immediately let out a cry of "Jesus Christ!" then quickly drew his arm close to his chest, protecting his bruised ribs as the dagger-like stream of hot water hit his skin.

The sound of the bathroom door opening was followed by Annie's voice. "Hey, you okay in there?"

Jim was still trying to get his breath back when the glass door slid back.

"A bath might have been a better option." Pointing at the still fresh stitches, she said, "You should have covered those."

He managed a quick nod while vaguely aware that he was no longer alone in the shower. And with her body blocking the flow of water, he wasn't going to protest.

"Here," she said, picking up the bar of soap and lathering him up. "How about I help you out?"

"Appreciate it," he finally managed. "Fucking hell that hurt!" He was still smarting from the pain, oblivious to the beautiful, naked woman who was presently running her hands all over his body.

"I know. I'm sorry, I should have warned you. Turn around."

Doing as she asked, he turned around and, feeling her hands on his back, he started to relax.

"You've got one nasty looking bruise on the side of your knee. Does it hurt?"

"The bruise hurts but my knee feels fine, if that makes sense."

Annie's fingers touched a sore spot on the side of his left hip and he flinched. "You've got a knot there."

"I think that's where I ran into a stump or something."

"Or something?"

"It was underwater. I didn't stop to check it out. Do I get to soap you up next?"

"If you feel up to it." She squeezed a small amount of shampoo into her hand and lathered up his hair. "Ready to rinse?"

He backed towards the water and closed his eyes. "You know, ordinarily this would be a huge turn on for me." He felt a little embarrassed that his body hadn't responded to having her in such close proximity.

Annie patted his shoulder. "I know, honey, but sometimes a shower together is just a shower together. Why don't you go and dry off while I finish up."

Jim nodded and slipped out of the tub. Grabbing a towel from the rack, he watched her lithe silhouette as she rinsed the shampoo from her hair. Looking down he muttered, "Yeah, now you get excited."

**-xxx-**

Shower over and breakfast consumed, Jim sat in the recliner with a bag of frozen corn tucked against his injured ribs and a bag of frozen peas on his face.

Handing him a pill and a glass of water, Annie said, "Those have been defrosted and refrozen a couple of times now. I don't think you're going to want to eat them after all this."

Jim swallowed the Motrin and washed it down with the water. "These bags have been in there for a few years so they probably have some serious freezer burn anyway." He noticed Annie lingering by his side, scrutinizing him. "What?"

"Take a deep breath."

With eyebrows raised, he looked up at her.

"You heard what the doctor said. You need to take deep breaths to expand your lungs."

Jim thought she was being ridiculous and no doubt his expression conveyed it. But he also knew she wouldn't leave him alone until he did it. Taking a deep breath, feeling once again like someone had slipped a knife between his ribs, he clutched his side as he slowly exhaled. "Happy now?" he asked, scowling up at her through knitted eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, she touched his shoulder. "I have something to make you feel better," she said, disappearing from the room.

Still scowling, he said, "Vicodin? That would make me feel better." Glancing around the living room, it occurred him that something was missing. Here it was, Christmas morning, and anyone coming to his house would never know it. At the very least he could have gotten a tree. After their earlier conversation, Annie might have liked that. Sadly, he'd spent so many Christmases alone since coming to Vegas, he'd completely forgotten about it until now.

Annie returned a minute later. Resting her bottom on the arm of the recliner, she handed him a small, square package wrapped in dancing snowmen. "Here, open it."

Brass looked at her and then at the package. Working at a corner of the paper, he peeled it back to reveal a square black frame with a 4x6 color photo inserted behind the glass. It took him a few seconds to realize what it was. "This is Evan?"

"Yes."

Jim held the picture with reverence, his thumb running over the glass. When he looked up, he could see the tears pooling in her eyes.

"I don't know if you can tell but he's got your nose."

"Probably my ears too," he said offhandedly, his eyes never leaving the photo. This was his son. His _son_. Just thinking about it got him choked up. "When was this taken?"

"Just after I got to bring him home." A tear ran down her cheek and dripped onto Jim's leg. "I really thought that when they let me bring him home, he was going to be okay."

Jim held onto the frame as if it were the most precious gift he'd ever received. And in a way it was. "Thank you."

Annie leaned over and rested her head against his. They sat together, their attention focused on the picture, on their baby boy, until the buzz of his cell phone cut through the silence.

"So many what if's," he said, and started to get up only to have Annie's hand stop him.

"Sit tight." Reaching over and picking up his phone, she read the name on the display aloud, "Vega," before handing the phone over to him.

Flipping open the phone, Jim felt a sudden tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with Evan or bruised ribs.

**-xxx-**

Annie tried not to eavesdrop on his conversation but sitting on the sofa it wasn't hard to make out the gist of it. "How is she?" she asked, watching him close the phone then turn it over and over in his hand.

"She's in recovery but it's not good. She threw a clot during surgery and it caused a stroke. They are still trying to evaluate the extent of the damage but if it's as bad as they think it is," he raised his eyebrows as he set the phone on a side table, "she'll probably end up in a long term care facility."

She knew today was going to be hard for him but seeing the look on his face, she realized this news had been devastating. "What about Rosie?"

"Sam tracked down a sister in Reno so he's waiting for her to get here. Until then Rosie will stay with CPS."

Annie felt her heart drop. Although her time with the little girl had been brief, she'd developed an attachment to her. For a very brief moment a thought flashed through her mind but she quickly brushed it aside as foolish and unrealistic. "And Guerrero?"

"He can rot in jail for all I care." Jim shook his head. "I told Sam I wanted to interview him. I'll go in tomorrow."

"You feel up to it?"

"Doesn't matter how I feel. This is something I have to do."

Annie knew then that he'd never retire of his own volition. He would be a cop until they forced him out the door. Or until the next Carlos Guerrero put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Swallowing her disappointment, she got up and patted him on the shoulder as she passed the recliner. "How about we open presents?"

"Presents? Was I supposed to get you something?" His deadpan expression gave way to a smirk.

"You're supposed to get me something wildly expensive."

Getting out of the chair with a grunt, he headed to the hall closet and after several minutes of rooting around, he returned with a thin 6x4 box wrapped in red paper and a white ribbon. "Oh, yeah? Well, when you open this, you'll be thanking me over and over."

Annie took the proffered box and sat back down on the sofa. "Better than sex, huh?"

Brass shook his head. "Better than sex with me? No."

"Cocky bastard," she muttered. Tugging on the ends of the ribbon, she slid a fingernail under the taped ends, carefully opened the lid of the box and then glared at him. "You gave me hockey tickets?"

"You like hockey. And it's the Wranglers. They're pretty good for an ECHL team. Haven't lost a home game yet."

She lifted them up to him. "Hockey tickets?"

He reached around to his back pocket, pulled out a plain white envelope, and handed it to her. "Maybe you'll like these better?"

Annie opened the flap and pulled out two tickets to Celine Dion. "How did you get these? She's been sold out for months!"

"I got my sources."

Getting up, she gave him a long kiss on the mouth. "These might be better than sex."

Again, he shook his head. "Not better than sex with me."

"I've seen all your moves."

"I got a few new ones I've been saving up."

Giving him another kiss, she swatted his backside and said, "Stay there and close your eyes." Once she was sure his eyes were closed, she grabbed her keys and slipped out the side door to her car. His present was too obvious to be left inside and even the dancing snowmen wrapping paper left nothing to the imagination.

Poking her head inside the door, she asked, "Eyes still closed?"

"Yes."

Just in case he was peeking, she carried the item behind her back as she crossed the room to his side. "Okay, open your eyes."

The gift might have been wrapped but it only took a glance to know what it was. "Let me guess. You got me a hockey stick."

"Open it." She could barely contain her excitement.

Giving it one glance, he said, "Honey, I hate to tell you but I was never a goalie."

"Just open it!"

He tore the paper in one long strip, revealing the black RBK emblem on the white composite shaft. Tearing away a few more strips of paper, he saw a scribbled autograph in blue sharpie. "A Marty Brodeur signed stick? Annie, how the hell did you get this?"

"Keep looking."

Jim tore away the rest of the paper, revealing more signatures. Reading aloud with all the incredulousness of a small boy, "Brian Gionta, Jamie Langenbrunner, Patrik Elias." He lowered the stick. "Annie, how…where did you get this?"

"You have your sources here and I still have a couple of connections back in Newark." She couldn't recall ever seeing him so genuinely happy and for a moment, she thought of Evan and what Christmas might have been like as a family.

"This is unbelievable! I can't believe you got this." He reached into his pocket again and pulled out another envelope. "Makes me glad I got you this as well."

Annie took the second smaller envelope, this one bearing the mark of QUA Baths and Spa at Caesar's Palace, and pulled out the blue tinted card that was inside. Annie read the card then looked up at him. "I know what I'll be doing while you're at PD tomorrow. Thank you very much!"

"I asked Catherine and she said it's the best spa in Vegas. No health violations or deaths."

"Spoken like a true detective," she said, knowing he was no longer listening. With his attention back to the stick, holding it up with reverence to examine each signature, she realized that for as long as she'd known him, the only time she'd ever really seen him happy was after sex. Then again, what man wasn't happy after sex? But this was definitely the happiest she'd ever seen him when an orgasm wasn't involved.

Lifting her chin with his finger then leaning in to kiss her. "This beats the hell out of an ornament."

She could feel his smile against her lips as she kissed him back.

**-xxx-**

"Hey," Annie said, coming up beside him and putting her arm around his shoulders. "How about you make a phone call?" She'd spent a leisurely morning in the kitchen, preparing what she called the Kramer traditional Christmas dinner. Jim didn't care what she called it, he was just glad to be eating a home cooked meal for a change. He'd offered to help, only to be shooed out of the room.

"She won't talk to me, not today."

"I don't mean Mrs. Bell and I think you're wrong."

He turned to look at her, confused.

"Your daughter. Why don't you call Ellie?"

"I think my answer applies to her too."

"Give it a try. What have you got to lose? If she doesn't answer, you can leave her a message but at least you'll have made the effort."

He stared at his hands if they would offer up an answer. "You're right." Getting to his feet, he picked up the cordless phone and dialed, surprised when she answered. "Ellie, hi, it's your dad." He looked over at Annie and smiled. "I just wanted to call and wish you a Merry Christmas." He paced back and forth for the duration of the two and a half minute phone call, choosing his words carefully, and praying nothing he said would set Ellie off. The last thing he wanted was an argument on Christmas day. But when they reached the end of the middle ground and he said, "I love you, Ellie", he couldn't hide his grin at her reply.

"_Yeah, Merry Christmas, dad."_

It was as close as he'd get to _I love you_ from her and that was good enough for him.

**-xxx-**

Annie watched him from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel, relieved to see his grin. She'd been worried that she was pushing him towards another disappointment and maybe if it had been any other day, it might have been. But Christmas was full of miracles and this was obviously one of them. Another miracle was that she had managed to time the meal perfectly.

Growing up, Annie had benefited from the cooking skills of a mother, several aunts and two grandmothers. She was helping prepare family meals from the time she was eight years old. When she was in high school, she baked her first pecan pie for Thanksgiving. Annie was a good cook but being a single woman in law enforcement didn't lend itself to preparing nice meals. More often than not, it was a Lean Cuisine in the microwave.

"You want to set the table? We're just about ready to eat."

Jim set out plates, silverware, napkins and two wine glasses then uncorked a bottle of merlot that Annie had in her bag.

"You take a trip to Sonoma?" he asked, looking at the bottle's label.

"A few trips. I found that bottle at a monastery."

"Made by monks?"

"Yes, they make their own wine for mass but they also sell it to the public. I liked their merlot."

"Blessed art thou," he said, raising the bottle before pouring a measure into each glass.

"I think we can use all the blessed help we can get." Annie set the covered dish on the table then went back to her roast. Her family always had a standing rib roast for Christmas so she'd bought everything she needed before she arrived at Jim's. Given that he'd been eating out just about every night since she'd last seen him, she was pretty sure she could have dressed up a nice piece of baloney for dinner and he'd have been perfectly happy.

A knock at the door caused Jim to flash a questioning eyebrow at Annie before setting the bottle down.

Hearing the front door open, she looked around the corner to see the young blonde detective standing there.

**-xxx-**

"Sofia, hey!" Jim knew his expression gave away his surprise but she really was the last person he expected to see. And judging by the look on her face, Annie was the last person Sofia expected to see. In a flash his mind replayed the conversation he'd had with Annie last month, when she told him it was obvious Sofia had feelings for him. He'd brushed it off, felt it was more about the shooting and Sofia needing a friend, but over the last few weeks she'd checked up on him, brought him coffee, or hauled him out for a bite to eat when he'd been pulling doubles. It was nothing he wouldn't have done for her but maybe he was wrong to brush it aside.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to bother you, especially when it looks like you're in the middle of dinner. I was at a scene a mile or so from here and thought I'd stop by to see how you were doing." She pointed at his cheek. "I heard what happened."

Jim fingered his bruised cheekbone and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, guy got a lucky punch."

"I heard you were on leave for a few days. Everything okay?" Sofia gave him a look that made the blood rush to his head.

Brushing off her question with a wave of his hand, he said, "Yeah, yeah, it's fine, I'm fine. I was already scheduled for some time off but the Sheriff told me to take a couple of extra days just to make sure…" For some reason he felt uncomfortable talking about his health with Sofia. He didn't want her to think he couldn't handle a little scuffle with a suspect. Yup, Jim Brass' ego was alive and well.

He heard the clanking of dishes and knew Annie was hovering behind him.

"Detective Curtis," she said, "nice to see you again. Jimmy, why don't you invite her in?"

Jim looked at Annie, who cocked an eyebrow at him, and then opened the door wider. "Sorry, please, come in. Sofia, you remember Annie Kramer?"

"Detective Kramer from L.A., right?"

"That's right," Jim said. "Please come in."

Sofia hesitated then entered but stayed by the front door. "You're getting ready to eat. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." She motioned towards her car. "I'll just be going. Got a lot of paperwork..."

"Paperwork will still be there in an hour," Annie said, coming up behind Jim and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you join us? There's more than enough and I'm sure when you go home tonight Christmas dinner will be Lean Cuisine."

Sofia laughed. "Healthy Choice actually."

Jim ushered her further into the house. "Annie's right. There's plenty of food. Call it in and I'll set another place."

The traditional Kramer Christmas meal wasn't anything too elaborate: the rib roast with roasted potatoes and carrots, some sort of cranberry relish with apples and celery, and a green salad. Jim was picking at his second helping of roast and gravy, sitting at the head of the table, Annie to his left and Sofia to his right, wondering if those half smiles and sly glances Sofia kept giving him constituted flirting. He'd had more than a few women flirt with him over the years but their signals usually hit him over the head. With Sofia he wasn't quite sure if she really was flirting with him or if Annie had just planted the suggestion and his mind was running with it.

Something Sofia said caused Annie to laugh and halfway into his bite of potato, Jim realized he'd missed the joke. And that sent both women into another fit of laughter. Given the way they were both looking at him, he knew he'd probably been the focus of their discussion. He definitely needed to pay more attention.

Glancing from one beautiful woman to the other, he suddenly had a very vivid erotic image of the two women that went straight to his groin. Fortunately, he was able to shake the image from his mind. Unfortunately, it had already sent a surge of heat through his body. Shifting in his chair, he felt his napkin start to slip and quickly caught it.

"You okay, Jim?" The question came from Sofia.

He looked up from his plate and tried to keep his expression even. "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look a little flushed." This time it was Annie and judging by the slightly amused look on her face, he was starting to wonder if she were reading his thoughts.

"Must be the food. I haven't had a good meal like this in a long time."

Sofia agreed. "Yes, this is delicious. Thank you so much. And I swear I wasn't trolling for an invite."

"Well, I'm glad you could join us." Annie scooted her chair back. "Now, who wants pie?"

**-xxx-**

With Sofia on her way back to LVPD, the table cleared, leftovers put away, and the hum of a full dishwasher running, Jim handed Annie a glass of wine and then settled onto the sofa next to her. He agreed that since she'd done all the cooking, he would do the clean-up and once or twice while he was rinsing dishes, he'd actually smiled at the feeling of domestic bliss.

"That really was a great dinner." Resting his arm on her thigh, he leaned in and kissed her. "Thank you."

"I enjoyed it. It was nice to cook for someone." She kissed him back. "A couple of someone's."

He pulled back. "Yeah, about that, I really didn't expect her to show up. I hope that was okay."

"Jimmy, it was fine. There was plenty of food and she's good company. I like her."

When he'd opened the door to find Sofia on his front porch, he wasn't sure what to expect. Whether Annie admitted it or not, he'd sensed some definite jealous vibes from her the first time she'd met Sofia and her hand on his shoulder earlier hadn't gone unnoticed. Admittedly, he tried to be a little more cognizant when he was working with Sofia but he still couldn't see what Annie did. Even so, it didn't matter. Right now he was sitting next to the woman he loved and her hand was gently stroking the side of his head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this happy and relaxed.

"How's your side? Need some ice?"

He grasped her hand, turning the palm up, and kissing her fingertips. "Why, got some strenuous activity in mind?"

"Well, they do say it's good to burn off those holiday calories but that's not what I had in mind. Although I'm guessing it might be what you had in mind."

"What can I say? I'm a guy. I have a one-track mind." He tilted his head sideways and smiled. "But right now, I'd rather just sit here and make out with you." With that pronouncement, he brushed aside her hair and began to trail kisses along the soft, sensitive flesh just below her right ear. He brought his right hand up, cupping her breast, his fingertip toying with her hardened nipple as he continued to kiss her neck. Slowly dragging his hand over her breast, nimble fingers quickly unfastened the top button of her blouse, giving access to the soft flesh. Slipping his fingers inside the lacy cup, he rolled the hard little bud beneath his fingers while bringing his lips to hers. Her mouth was warm and supple and tasted of merlot. His tongue flicked against hers, and then suddenly she'd pulled back, her face skewed in pain.

"You okay?" he asked wondering what he'd done to cause such a reaction.

"Foot cramp." She clutched at her right foot. "Oh, and it's right in the arch."

"Here, stretch out and give me your foot. I'll see if I can work it out." Annie maneuvered herself so she was lying across the cushions, her long legs draped across Jim's lap, her right foot and ankle enveloped in his hands as he massaged her instep with his thumbs. "Is this the spot?"

She leaned her head against the sofa arm. "That's it, thank you."

As Brass continued to massage her foot, her ankle and her calf, his attention migrated to the television. Since Christmas evening was relatively void of sports and the History channel had been vetoed, he'd given her the remote and told her to pick something. He'd pretended not to be interested when she landed on a _Sex and the City_ marathon and he'd never admit to watching it, even though something one of the characters had just said piqued his curiosity. "So when we start talking about our feelings after sex, that's when we can call this a relationship?"

Annie cocked an eyebrow. "Well, it would probably help if we talked about more than what mind blowing orgasms we just had."

"Hey, I kind of like to hear that and it's a feeling so it counts, right?"

"Kind of." She went silent for a few minutes before asking, "So you like to hear that?"

"Yeah. You know, something more than the usual," he affected his best feminine voice, which thankfully, still sounded very masculine, "_oh, Jim, that was great_."

Laughing, she said, "You get that a lot, do you?"

He was well aware he was venturing into dangerous territory. "Once or twice."

"Modest." She slid her left foot under his right thigh causing him to give her a questioning look. "My foot's cold. So you need to be reassured?"

He shook his head. "Just like to know I'm doing it right."

She leaned forward and ran her hand over his shoulder before tweaking his earlobe. "Trust me, you're doing it right."


	6. Chapter 6

_I failed to mention that in the last chapter there was a reference to a Paul Guilfoyle movie. Anyone catch it? Thank you very much for reading and for your reviews. I appreciate them very much!_

* * *

><p>Long after Annie had fallen asleep stretched out on the sofa, Jim found himself wide awake. Idly flipping through the channels, he settled on some 70's movie with guns and car chases and women with big breasts but he wasn't paying attention. He had other things on his mind.<p>

This should have been just another day for him. He'd spend Christmas Eve on some call-out where a couple of Darwin Award contenders offed themselves trying to play Santa and then spend most of Christmas morning filling out paperwork and drinking cold, stale coffee. But he shot Daniel Bell and that simple twist of fate somehow made his life better. Leaning his head against the cushions and staring up at the ceiling, he thumped his fist against his thigh and shook his head at the ridiculous irony. If he hadn't shot Bell, he might never have seen Annie again. He'd called her back in April and she had gladly helped with Ellie and in return he stayed at her house, fucked her, and left without saying good-bye. Honestly, he'd never given a second thought to calling her again. And yet, the minute Warrick called, she'd come to Vegas just to make sure he was okay.

Running his hand over the back of his head, it wasn't a great revelation to realize he'd been an asshole. He'd spent the first year or so in Vegas doing much of the same with a number of women. He didn't care. He wasn't interested in a relationship; he just wanted to get laid. Of course there were one or two women he wouldn't have minded seeing again but casual sex worked both ways and they were using him just like he'd used them. Jesus, he thought, given what he knew now he was lucky he hadn't been slapped with a paternity suit. Although he'd always tried to be responsible, there were a few times that alcohol had definitely clouded his judgment and he wasn't so sure. But no one had come knocking on his door with a kid in tow and he hadn't had an STD since Vietnam. Thankfully, those years were behind him. He'd curbed his player ways around the time he'd been busted back to homicide. Holly Gribbs: another death, another life changing event. His career had been defined by them. But this one served as a wakeup call. Change hadn't come over night and it hadn't come without a few hitches but he'd put some real effort into it and working with a guy like Gil Grissom had definitely helped. He'd never tell Grissom that and if he did, he was sure the entomologist wouldn't have a clue what he meant anyway. But Brass knew and because of it, there wasn't anyone he trusted more. That much he had told his friend.

One of the big breasted women on the television ran down a hill, momentarily catching his attention. He'd been with a woman once, Paula, was her name. Her tits had been so naturally big that when he started fucking her doggy style and reached forward to give her a squeeze, he realized they were squished against the mattress, causing him to wonder if she lifted her hands up, would she still be on all fours. It had been such a distraction that he couldn't get off but later she'd let him fuck her tits and well, that's why he remembered her name. Glancing back at the TV, the big breasted woman was gone, replaced by a couple of squirrelly looking guys with bad 70's hairstyles and mutton chops.

Digging his fingers into a sore neck muscle, he yawned. In the morning he'd head to the station and have a little chat with Carlos Guerrero. He'd spent most of the day trying not to think about Rosie Guerrero and what her father had done. He hated crimes against kids, hated them to the point that it was getting harder and harder to keep his anger and frustration in check. Sure he and Ellie had their issues and yes, she disappointed him with the path she'd chosen but the thought of anyone hurting her as a child or even as an adult made his chest ache. Blood or not, she was still his kid and he'd try to protect her until his last living breath.

Dragging his hand over his face, smiling at Annie as she shifted her position and let out a little moan, he knew he shouldn't be surprised by what he'd seen over the years. Some of them, like the mother who gave her twelve year old daughter PCP, still haunted his dreams. That one caused a surge of anger every time he thought about it, mostly because there was enough evidence to prove the mother did it but the D.A. refused to take the case to court. It wasn't any great revelation to say that some days he really hated his job.

Yawning again, he reached for the remote and switched off the television, then patted her hip. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty, it's time to go to bed."

Without opening her eyes, she smiled. "Wasn't Sleeping Beauty awakened with a kiss from a handsome prince?"

Rubbing his right eye with his fingers, he frowned. "I get Snow White and Sleeping Beauty confused. Which one had the dwarves?"

She slowly sat up and stretched. "That was Snow White but they both had a handsome prince whose kiss broke the spell. You have a daughter. You should know this stuff."

He held out his hand to help her up and when she put her hand in his, he sang, "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to bed we go. Tonight no luck too tired to fuck, hi ho, hi ho, hi ho, hi ho."

"Please tell me you never sang that to Ellie," she said, heading down the hall as he turned off the lights.

"Nah," he answered, following her. "I just made it up."

Shaking her head, she gave him a resigned smile. "I never knew you were so lyrical."

"When this police gig is up, I'm thinking of embarking on a new career." He disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door on the heels of her laughter.

**-xxx-**

Annie awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Dragging herself out of bed, she wandered into the kitchen yawning loudly.

"Coffee?" Jim handed her a full mug then nodded to the milk already on the counter. Twisting around, he gave her a quick kiss and then returned to the sunny-side up eggs in the skillet.

Showered, shaved and dressed in a pair of dark blue trousers and a sleeveless white t-shirt, it was obvious he was anxious to see Guerrero. Sliding an egg from the skillet, two slices of bacon, a spatula of hash browns and buttered toast onto a plate and handed it to Annie along with a fork.

"Hope you like dunky eggs," he said, fixing his own plate and then joining her at the table.

"I like eggs but I've never heard of dunky eggs."

Jim took a corner of his toast and dipped it into the soft yolk. "Dunky egg, see?" He took a bite, talking as he chewed. "When Ellie was little, the only way we could get her to eat eggs was to fix them sunny side up like this and call them dunky eggs. She loved them and well, I have to admit, I've called them that ever since." He raised his eyebrows and took a long sip of his coffee.

Annie couldn't help but smile. He might not be what some women would call a handsome man but he certainly was attractive, especially when he was being sentimental. "So tell me," she began, following his lead and dunking the corner of her toast into the soft yolk, "do you make yourself a big breakfast like this every day? This is really good, by the way."

"No, I usually have a bowl of that healthy crap after work. You're corrupting me." He took a bite of egg and winked at her. "In a good way."

"Yeah, well, my breakfast usually consists of coffee and if I'm lucky, a cup of yogurt, so I'm feeling very spoiled by all this."

They finished eating without a mention of Carlos Guerrero but Annie knew he was thinking about the case, about the similarities. Every now and again he looked up and smiled, trying to tell her in his subtle way that everything was okay but she knew that once he sat down across the table from Guerrero, it was going to be hard to hold back.

Carrying his plate and mug into the kitchen, she watched him rinse the plate and load it into the dishwasher then get a coffee refill. "A man who puts his dishes into the dishwasher? You're a keeper."

Leaning against the counter, he sipped his coffee. "I clean toilets, do laundry, and dust too."

"Forget writing dirty limericks. You can have a second career as a French maid."

"As long as I don't have to wear the uniform," he said in probably the worst feminine French accent she'd ever heard.

She joined him in the kitchen, nudging him aside so she could get to the sink. "You have a sick mind."

"Comes with the job. Did I ever tell you about Sexy Kitty?"

"Sexy Kitty? Sounds like a stripper name. And no, you've never mentioned her." Between the look on his face and the way he stretched out the words "_no, not a stripper_", she couldn't wait to hear the story.

"Sexy Kitty was a short, bald guy in a big, blue cat costume complete with boa and leopard bikini. He was part of a Furries and Plushies Convention and beyond that, you _don't_ want to know."

The image of Jim standing next to a large, blue female cat in a leopard bikini flashed through Annie's mind sending her into a fit of giggles that kept recurring every time she looked at him.

Jim dumped the remaining contents of his coffee into the sink, patting her on the arm as he left the kitchen. "Yeah, wait until you see the picture."

**-xxx-**

"So, are you going to the spa today?" Jim asked as he clipped his gun holster to his belt and slipped on his jacket.

"Yes, I made an appointment for 11:45 for a mani, pedi, and massage."

Slipping his badge into his pocket, he took her hand and pulled her close for a kiss. "Ask for a masseuse."

"As opposed to a masseur?"

He kissed her. "Uh, huh."

"Jealous?"

He nodded as he leaned forward and kissed her again, this time lingering a little longer before inching back. "I don't want to hear that a tall, bronzed, blond, Swedish god had his hands all over you."

"No worries. If that happens I'll pull my Vice card and then tell them my heart belongs to a short, pale, slightly bald, Irish guy."

Smiling, he held her a little longer, his hands stroking her back. "That's my girl." He pecked her lips again. "And thanks for thinking of me as only _slightly_ bald."

Jim left Annie at his house and as he backed down the driveway, the warm feeling of domesticity once again washed over him. He and Annie were playing house and he liked it. He liked it a lot. Unfortunately, Jim Brass was a realist and knew the feeling wouldn't last. It sure as hell hadn't lasted with Nancy. What made him think married life with Annie would be any different? Shifting into drive, his foot eased onto the accelerator as he answered his own question aloud. "Annie isn't Nancy."

Merging onto the Las Vegas Freeway, he pushed the Charger well past the posted speed limit, weaving his way through traffic like he was a Formula One racer. The closer he got to LVPD, the more he felt tension start to squeeze his shoulders and anger well up in his chest. The thought of what Guerrero had done brought up a sense of rage he hadn't felt in years. His fist connecting with Guerrero's jaw was a recurring vision he'd had over the last few days. He only hoped he could contain his anger enough to keep the vision from becoming a reality. The last thing he needed was a suspension for punching a suspect. By the time he walked through the doors at LVPD, all the warm feelings of domesticity were gone. His focus now was entirely on Carlos Guerrero and what he'd done to his daughter and his wife.

Catherine Willows stepped into the main corridor ahead of him and stopped. "Hey, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on leave?"

"Yeah, but I wanted to interview Guerrero."

Crossing her arms, Catherine said, "I thought it was Vega's case now."

"I know it's Vega's case now but I still want to talk to Guerrero," he said irritably. "I think I'm allowed to do that." He regretted the tone of his words the second he'd said them. Running his hand over the back of his neck, he knew he owed Catherine an apology. She hadn't done anything to deserve his ire and yet, he'd practically bitten her head off. "I'm sorry, Cath." Shaking his head, he looked past her shoulder, to the row of windows that framed his office. "This case has gotten under my skin."

"You fished the daughter out of the wash and saw the wife gunned down right in front of you. I can't say that I blame you for feeling that way." Holding out the report, she smiled. "In case you want to take a look before you go in. If Brenda Guerrero doesn't make it, we've got enough to get him the needle. If she lives, he's still looking at 15 to life for pre-meditated attempted murder. And that's on top of what he'll get for Rosie."

Surprised, Jim accepted the file. "You knew I'd be here today?"

"After all this time, give me some credit, Jim. I know you pretty well."

"Then why give me grief for being here?"

"Because friends look out for each other and I'm not sure if you're aware but," she pointed to his face, "you still look like hell."

"Thanks," he started to walk past her and then added, "I think."

She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in close. "Oh, and if you should happen to punch him, we've still got enough to keep the case from being thrown out."

Shaking his head, he smiled. "I can't deny that thought hasn't been running through my head a lot lately."

"Not surprised. I have to admit, the thought crossed my mind as well." As he turned to leave, she stopped him again. "By the way Annie seems very nice."

Jim felt his defenses momentarily go up but the look on Catherine's face expressed only sincerity. "Yeah, she is."

"She has to be to get you to take time off during the holidays."

"You've been keeping tabs on me?" He tried to keep the irritability out of his voice but her posture told him he wasn't doing a very good job.

"Jim, I didn't mean to get in your business. It's just that since I've known you, you've always worked the holidays to give the married guys time with their families. I just think it's nice that you've finally got someone to spend the holidays with."

He'd never realized that his personal life was so transparent before or that he was apparently the epitome of the sad, lonely, divorced cop. Not knowing what to say, he just nodded.

"Several of us are heading over to the Half Moon tonight. Maybe you and Annie can join us?"

"I've got tickets to the Wranglers tonight. Maybe we'll come by after the game."

"Or better yet, just send Annie."

"Leave her alone to be interrogated by you?" Jim shook his head and laughed. "Not a chance."

Turning on her heel, Catherine flipped her hair and walked away, giving him a wave over her shoulder and leaving him standing alone in the corridor.

**-xxx-**

"Jim, what are you doing here?" This time the question came from Sam Vega. Rolling his eyes, he figured he'd be drunk in no time if the question were a drinking game.

"I want to talk to Guerrero." Sam Vega started to protest but Jim held up his hand. "I know it's not my case but I still want to talk to him." Jim gave him a look that might have withered a less seasoned officer. He could tell Vega still wasn't convinced but Sam understood rank and Jim had it over him. That's what he liked about Vega.

Vega met Jim's gaze then finally nodded. "I'll have one of the guys bring him up."

Jim flexed his left hand and set his jaw then went inside interview room one and took a seat facing the door. Resting both hands on the table, he waited. Fortunately, the wait wasn't very long.

Wearing the requisite orange jumpsuit, his hands shackled in front of him, Carlos Guerrero entered the room and at the urging of his uniformed escort, took a seat across from Jim. Brass gave the man points for waiving his right to counsel and not wasting their time. Guerrero knew he was guilty and the police had all the evidence they needed. It wasn't like a lawyer was going to be able to help him at this point. Seeing the swollen purple slit that was Guerrero's right eye, Jim felt a fair amount of satisfaction, although he wasn't sure if he'd gotten in a lucky punch or if word of what Guerrero had done had gotten around.

Pushing out his chair and slowly walking round the table until he stood directly behind Guerrero Brass wasted no time getting to the point. Leaning in close to Guerrero's right ear, he said, "You tossed your child, your little girl, into a flooded wash like she was a piece of trash." Taking a step back, he could no longer retain his anger. It was all he could do to keep his balled fist at his side. "What's wrong with you, you dumb fuck?"

Guerrero kept his gaze focused straight ahead, his voice showing no emotion. "She's not my kid."

Jim put his hands on the back of the chair, mainly to keep from punching the guy. "Does she know that?"

"No."

"Then you're her daddy. You got a problem with your wife because she slept with the mailman, you take it up with her. You move out, you get a divorce. You don't take it out on your kid. Ever! She didn't do anything except think you're her daddy. She trusted you. She loved you. And what did you do?" Brass turned towards the two-way glass, his expression one of seething disgust. Seeing Guerrero's reflection, still showing no remorse, Brass turned sharply. "Get this asshole out of my sight!"

As the uniformed officer stepped forward, Guerrero stood up from the chair and rushed at Brass, quickly restrained by the officer. Brass waved off the officer, very calmly motioning for him to move aside. He'd hear Guerrero out. "How would you feel if you found out your wife fucked someone else and the kid wasn't yours, huh?" Spittle flew from Guerrero's mouth and landed on the metal table top. "You tell me how you'd feel? Don't fucking judge me! You don't fucking know what it's like!"

Brass turned on his heel and almost launched himself at the man, his index finger hitting him squarely in the chest and pushing him until his back was against the wall. "Let me tell you, you worthless piece of shit. I do know what it's like. And unlike you, I didn't take the coward's way out. I raised that little girl like she was my own. I loved her like she was my own and I was her daddy. I didn't let her pay the price because her momma couldn't keep her legs closed when I wasn't home."

"Yeah, well I guess they should pin a medal on you cause I sure as shit couldn't do it."

Brass stayed in his face a beat longer, his eyes boring into the younger man's, before looking at the expressionless uniformed cop standing to the side. "Lock him up. And be sure to tell the others what he did." Disgusted, Brass turned around and sat down hard in one of the metal chairs. He wasn't sure who was behind the two-way and he'd probably regret letting his personal business get all over the precinct but right now he didn't care. Lifting his gaze at the sound of the opening door, he ran his hand over the back of his head.

Catherine came inside the room and leaned on the chair opposite him. "For what it's worth, I thought you showed a lot of restraint."

"He hit the wrong button." He put his hand to his ribs as he sat up, trying to hide his discomfort. Truth was, he couldn't have physically done anything more and he didn't want to give Guerrero or the officer in the room the satisfaction of seeing that. Last thing he needed was some rumor going around that he was too old to do his job. He'd already felt that perception more than once since the shooting. Inhaling deeply, he felt the catch in his chest and this time couldn't hide the grimace.

Her hand was instantly on his shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

He nodded, exhaling slowly, and then asked, "You were behind the glass?"

"Yes." The look on her face told him that she'd heard everything.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

That made him feel slightly better. He trusted Catherine almost as much as he trusted Grissom. "Keep it to yourself, okay?"

"I will, Jim. Don't worry."

Getting up from the chair, he smiled sadly. "With you, Catherine, I never worry." Laying a hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze, he slowly headed out the door, down the corridor and into the men's room.

**-xxx-**

"Was that Jim?"

Catherine turned at the question to see Sofia Curtis leaning into the doorway. "Yes."

"I thought he was out for the next week or so."

Strolling past the detective, Catherine stopped just outside the interrogation room. "He should be but he wanted to talk to Guerrero."

"It's Vega's case now."

"It is but you know Jim. He's a father with a daughter." Catherine shrugged. "This one struck a chord with him and he wanted to be here."

"Yes, and Sam's not going to tell him no."

"Not without getting his head handed to him."

Sofia's furtive glances over her shoulder didn't go unnoticed and Catherine couldn't help but wonder if Jim had any clue. Ever since the revelation that it was Jim who killed Officer Bell, it was well known around the department that she'd been very protective of Brass but most had brushed that off as feeling sorry for the man, especially when she'd been so convinced of her own guilt. Catherine, however, thought otherwise. Instincts and now evidence told her she was right.

**-xxx-**

Brass entered the men's room and went straight to the sink. Turning on the faucet, he stuck his hands under the running stream then splashed the cold water onto his face, not caring that droplets of water soaked the front of his shirt. Grabbing hold of the sides of the basin, he rocked back and forth on his heels, fighting the driving urge to hit something, well aware that he needed to cool off before he did something completely irrational like punch a cinderblock wall. He could count a handful of times in his life that he'd wanted to physically hurt a suspect and this was one of those times. Closing his eyes, he silently counted to ten and then let out a deep breath before unclenching his hands. Feeling a little better, he reached for a paper towel and dried his face and hands before returning to the corridor and nearly running into Sofia.

"Hey, you okay?"

He looked at her curiously before nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Catherine said the Guerrero case struck a nerve with you."

"Guy tries to toss his kid away like she's garbage because he finds out she's not his." She was looking at him with genuine concern and oddly enough, he liked it. Putting his hands behind his back, he leaned against the wall and let his shoulders fall. "I just don't get people."

She put her hand on his arm. "How about I buy you a cup of coffee?"

If he was reading her body language correctly, it would be a mistake to accept her offer but he really wanted to get out of there and he really wanted a cup of coffee. Actually, he wanted something a lot stronger than coffee. "You buying?"

"I'm buying," she said with a smile. "Frank's okay?"

"How about the Blue Rail?" He knew when he made the suggestion and she said yes that this was his second mistake.


	7. Chapter 7

They arrived in separate cars and when he pulled into the parking space in front of the bar, a sense of déjà vu washed over him. He'd done this before, only it was twenty years ago and the woman getting out of the unmarked sedan next to his was Annie. They'd meet for a quick drink and then head over to her place. About an hour or so later, she'd drop him off at his car and he'd head home to a cold bed, a wife who didn't love him, and a daughter growing increasingly distant and angry. Seeing Sofia exit her vehicle, he shook his head. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe he was letting Annie's suggestion go to his head. Maybe Sofia really just wanted to have a drink with him. She was a young, beautiful woman who could have her pick of any man. What could she possibly see in him?

She was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the bar, arms crossed and smiling, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes. This was nothing more than a much needed drink with a friend, that's what he told himself as he opened the car door and slowly got out, suppressing a grunt at the stiffness in his back and legs. If it were Catherine, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. Why was Sofia any different? This was all Annie's fault. If she hadn't planted the thought in his head...

"Hey, Jim." She removed her sunglasses and for the first time he noticed just how blue her eyes were.

"Hey." He met her at the sidewalk and opened the door, following her inside. The Blue Rail was a cop bar, a place to get lost after a tough shift, no matter the time of day, a place to meet up with fellow officers and blow off a little steam. Thankfully, the staff at the bar had one of the local cab companies on speed dial, which was good because Brass had a vague recollection of being poured into the backseat more than once.

Sofia looked around. "I thought this place was a myth."

"Jim Brass, long time, no see." The greeting came from a tall, thin man behind the bar causing Sofia to give Jim a side glance.

Brass raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "This was my home away from home for a time. Bar or table?"

"How about a table."

Brass led her over to a vacant place in the corner. "This one used to have my name on it." He pulled out the chair for her then ambled around and took a seat across from her.

"So I take it you haven't been here in a while?"

He clearly remembered the last time he'd been in. It was after they'd pulled Nick out of the ground after being buried alive. He'd gone to the hospital with the rest of the team and then headed over to the Blue Rail to drown the demons. But the demons didn't drown. They never did. "Yeah, it's been a while. A lot of the guys I used to hang with either retired or," he glanced at his hands, resting on the table, "died. I'm the last of the dinosaurs, I guess."

Sofia placed her hand on his. "You're not a dinosaur, Jim."

The arrival of the bartender gave him an excuse to withdraw his hands. "What can I get you two?"

Sofia looked at Jim, who took the cue. "How about a couple of Sam Adams?"

When the barman retreated, Sofia leaned in. "I heard you were a scotch man."

He tilted his head with interest. "Oh, yeah, what else have you heard?"

"You had to leave Newark PD after you turned in some dirty cops. You're divorced and have a daughter named Ellie."

Jim smiled. The scotch was a little personal but everything else was common knowledge around the department.

"I know cases with kids, young girls especially, bother you."

"Cases with kids bother every detective." He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt defensive. Maybe he was afraid she was going to expose something more sensitive.

"I know that you care very much for your team. I know that gruff exterior is just a façade and I know that I have feelings for you that extend beyond friendship."

The single most important thing being a homicide detective had taught Jim over the years was how to keep a neutral expression even when he was completely taken by surprise. Now was one of those times. Meeting her gaze before looking down at his beer, he started with, "Sofia, I," before realizing he had no idea what to say except that this really was a mistake.

Thankfully, she cut him off before he could continue. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." She started to get up to leave but he waved her off.

"Sofia, don't leave just yet. Please, sit down." Jim leaned back as the barman returned carrying two bottles and two glasses. Watching as she picked at the label on her bottle, he winced. It took a lot of courage to say that and now she probably felt embarrassed. At least that's how he felt when he'd said something similar to Catherine years ago. Finding what he hoped were the right words, he said, "I'm flattered, I really am. You don't know what it's like for a guy like me to hear that a young, beautiful woman like you has feelings for me. Really. But, um, well, there's Annie and I," he ran his hand over the back of his head, "she and I go back a ways, back to New Jersey. When my wife was screwing half of the Newark PD, well, Annie was there for me." He took a swig from the bottle, mostly because he didn't want to elaborate on how Annie was there for him but also because those blue eyes looked so damned sad. "And then there was the shooting and," he scratched the side of his head, "and I kind of hit bottom and she was there to scrape up the mess." He smiled, trying to take some of the edge off of what he'd just said.

"Do you love her?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Jim, I'm sorry. I should have known when I came by yesterday. It's just that after the last couple of weeks," she picked at the beer label, rolling the paper into little balls and flicking them away. "I kind of thought maybe there was something between us."

"You've been a good friend and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you sticking by me but I'm sorry if I ever gave you that impression." Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, he joked, "You know, after all the time we've spent around each other the last few weeks, I would have thought you'd be pretty sick of me by now."

Looking down at the table, she shrugged. "Kind of the opposite," she said, bringing those sorrowful blue eyes up to his. "I should go." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "If something happens and things don't work out," she trailed off with a sad smile.

"I'll let you know." He cringed inwardly as the words came out of his mouth. He knew it wasn't right to string her along and give her false hope but he hated to see her so deflated. As he watched her walk across the bar and out the door, he waved the barman over. "Scotch, neat," he said before leaning forward and resting his head in his hands. Feeling his phone vibrate, he pulled it from his pocket and checked the text.

_Just finished massage and heading for a soak in the Roman baths. No tall, bronzed, blond, Swedish god, just a short brunette named Juanita. See you back at your place in a couple of hours._

His text back was a simple, _ok, enjoy!_

Putting down the phone and blowing out a very audible breath, he finished off the beer as the barman arrived with a single tumbler on a tray. "Been saving this one just for you, Jim. Twelve year old single malt as smooth as a baby's butt. Don't get too many scotch drinkers in here anymore so I save the best for the old regulars."

"Thanks, Louie," Jim said, picking up the glass. Taking a sip, he recalled the words of an old Scottish friend of his dad's who had introduced him to the smoky amber liquid just before he'd left for Southeast Asia with the Marines. Jim had taken a healthy swallow and grimaced at the burn. _"You're not supposed to drink it down,"_ the man had said in his thick brogue. _"You're supposed to taste it first."_

Taking another sip, he set the glass down and ran his middle finger around the rim. Not only had Annie been right about Sofia, she'd also been right about him. He did need someone to lean on and Sofia had gladly answered the call. Today it was just a beer but what about the next time? Could he, would he, say no then, especially knowing now how she felt? He liked to think yes but now he wasn't so sure.

Picking up the glass, he hesitated as something on the television over the bar caught his attention. Watching the commercial with interest, he thought wistfully back to several years ago, to something he used to do when life got a little heavy and he needed an escape. With a little preparation there was no reason he couldn't take it up again – and this time with Annie. Downing the single malt and saying a silent apology to the Celtic god of whisky, he paid the tab and hurriedly left the bar.

**-xxx-**

Jim was just lowering the garage door when Annie's car pulled into the drive, the view of bare skin above his jeans-clad backside making her smile. Tugging down his shirt as he turned around made her smile widen.

Opening her car door, he said, "You smell good."

Climbing out of the car, her hand resting on the top of the window, she wrinkled her nose. "You smell like sweat."

He backed away slightly. "I was tinkering in the garage."

"Never took you as a tinkerer." She grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him towards her. Smiling against his lips, she said, "Good thing I like sweaty men in button fly jeans."

"Oh, yeah?" He kissed her quickly then took her by the hand and led her around the door, using his hip to push it shut. Pressing her up against the side of the car, the heat of the engine radiated over her lower back. "You know a lot of sweaty guys in button flies?"

Laughing at the rhyme and the cocky way he said it, she said, "just you, honey, just you." There was something exciting about his thigh grinding against her crotch under the potentially watchful eyes of the neighbors next door. She slid her hand down and cupped the bulge at the base of the silver buttons, laughing again at the audible "oof" he let out. "Sorry but as much as I love you in these jeans, I'd rather have you out of them."

His lips were on the skin just under her earlobe. "I don't think Mrs. McGregor would appreciate my bare ass the way you do."

Resting her arms on his shoulders, she leaned into him, her hips reacting to the heat he was creating. "You might be surprised." Annie moved one hand to his cheek, feeling the afternoon stubble on his jaw. "You're scruffy."

"Want me to shave?" His hands were on her hips, then along her sides and under her arms, on her chest, his palms massaging her breasts.

She closed her eyes for a long minute. "No, I like it, very much."

"What the hell did they give you at that spa?"

Loving what he was now doing to her neck, she smiled wickedly. "Aphrodisiac in the massage oil and Roman bath."

"Maybe that's why Catherine likes it so much."

She was going to reply but instead gasped, then giggled and squirmed as his hand slipped down the front of her yoga pants. "Jim," she breathed heavily, "your neighbors are going to call the police if they see us."

"I am the police."

What he was doing with his fingers while kissing her collarbone was making it very difficult to retain her composure. A hasty glance down and she saw that he was as aroused as she was.

"Want me to stop?" His voice was husky and deep and sent shivers along her spine.

"No," she breathed, not really sure she'd said it aloud.

"Then let's take this inside. Mrs. McGregor might not appreciate what comes next."

"You did not just say that," she said, laughing as she quickly followed him to the house.

"You're right. I should have said _who_," he answered with a wicked grin.

**-xxx-  
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He had the yoga pants in a puddle on the floor as soon as the door closed and before she knew it, he'd lowered his jeans and pulled one of her legs up so that she was half-straddling him. Jim bent down slightly and pushed into her then grabbed her ass and hoisted her up. Feeling the door behind her, she'd tried to keep one foot on the ground but the first thrust sent a shiver of such intense pleasure up her spine and down her legs that she worried her knees would buckle. Instinctively, she grabbed his shoulders but he had her securely in his grasp, the look in his eyes telling her to trust him. And she did.

"Squeeze your thighs together."

The result was a powerful moan that escaped from somewhere deep inside her. Annie wanted it to last but he was close and she was too hungry for her own approaching release. With one long, shuddering cry, she was there, his deep primal grunt following close behind. Holding onto Jim, praying he was aware enough to hold them both up, she could feel the heave of his chest. It was hard to tell which one of them was panting the hardest.

With her feet finding purchase on the floor again, he pressed her hands against the door and began to gently kiss her collarbone, her breasts, before capturing her mouth in a fervent kiss. He still hadn't let go of her hands as he lowered them to her sides.

"Are you okay?" As he asked the question, she could feel him slip from her, breaking their bond, and making her muscles twitch from a stray spasm.

Closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly then smiled contently. "I am very okay."

He touched his forehead to hers then kissed the tip of her nose. "I told you I had new moves I was saving up."

"I will never doubt you again." Gathering up her discarded clothes, Annie disappeared down the hallway. When she returned a few minutes later, Jim was lying on his back in the middle of the living room floor, knees up and eyes closed.

"You overdid it, didn't you?"

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes and looked up. "I think this counts as the strenuous activity I was supposed to avoid but for what it's worth, I'd do it again." His grin looked more like a grimace. "If I could."

"Want some ice?"

"That would probably be a good idea. Bring two bags."

**-xxx-**

Watching as Annie disappeared into the kitchen, he really wasn't kidding. He couldn't do it again, possibly ever. And in a couple of hours he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to move. But Sofia's admission had left him feeling a little worried. Knowing how she felt, knowing that in a few days Annie would be back in Los Angeles and he did need someone to physically lean on when things were rough, left him with doubts. He thought he needed to prove to himself and to Annie that he loved her but while the sex was great, it really didn't prove anything.

He knew sex didn't equate to love and eventually the passion and desire would burn out. When that happened, there had to be something else to keep the love alive or the relationship would die. At least that's how his marriage had worked. Hell, maybe he didn't really know what it was to truly be in love. He'd thought he was in love with Nancy but when the fire burned out, there was nothing left to keep the marriage going. Lord knows he tried but the more he tried the more toxic it became and then he'd found out about Ellie.

He wondered if what he had with Annie was really different than what he'd initially had with Nancy. He wasn't sure but what he did know was how Annie made him feel right now and how happy he was to have her here. To feel happy and content in the presence of another – maybe that was what it was like to be in love?

Annie returned from the kitchen with the usual bags of frozen vegetables. Handing them to him, she said, "One of these days we need to get you some proper ice packs." Shaking her head, she passed him a pillow from the sofa and then tossing another one onto the plushy rug, dropped down next to him. "And if it makes you feel better, that might have been the hottest sex I've ever had."

"Oh yeah?" He'd closed his eyes again but urged her to scoot in closer to him, then kissed the top of her head. "You're just happy I didn't drop you."

"Yes, I do appreciate that." She began massaging his right shoulder, her thumb pressing into the joint. It hurt at first but the more she did it, the better it felt.

"The hockey game is tonight. Puck drops at 7pm. Catherine said there's a group going over to the Half Moon tonight. Asked if we'd like to join them."

"What did you say?"

"I said maybe we'd stop by after the game."

She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on one elbow. "Do you want to go?"

"Hey, you know me. I'm mostly a stay-at-home kind of guy. But we can go if you want."

"Let's see how you feel after the game." Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt and over the thatch of still-damp hair surrounding his belly button. "What's the Half Moon like?"

"Last time I was there, it was a drinks and dancing kind of place."

"Dancing, huh? Can you dance?"

"I can dance. My mom forced me and my brother to take dance lessons when we were in junior high."

"And you went willingly?"

"Not at first but then I figured out that certain girls would let you feel them up if you danced with them."

Annie laughed at his confession. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

He knitted his eyebrows in thought. "It was summer before my sophomore year, I remember that. Fifteen maybe? It was at one of those boy-girl parties." He chuckled as he started to remember more. "We did it in the laundry room and this poor girl was lying on a pile of dirty hockey gear. When my brother picked me up later, he told me I smelled like sex and B.O."

"Do you even remember her name?"

He brought his hand up to scratch the middle of his chest. "Cheryl, Sherry, something with a _sh_ at the beginning. She went to a different high school than me so I never saw her again. What about you?"

Annie's answer was more concise. "I was 18 and a freshman in college. Got drunk on _Tuborg Gold_ and went home with this guy from my English class. I woke up in his dorm room with the condom stuck in my pubes." She started laughing as she told the last part and barely got the words out. "He was very sweet, very gentle, and very apologetic."

"Between showers and condoms you've had some pretty traumatic sex."

"And you didn't?"

"Just that time you crushed my balls in the bathtub."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Hey, it's probably the single most painful thing that's ever happened to me – and that includes getting knifed that one time. I couldn't walk upright or without feeling like I was going to puke my guts for a week."

"Well, the boys seem to have recovered just fine."

He glanced at his watch and scrunched up his nose. "I guess I should probably grab a shower before we head to the game, especially if we're going out later."

"Yes, you smell like sex and B.O."

"Hate to tell you but um," his expression was slightly apologetic, "so do you."

**-xxx-**

The game between the Las Vegas Wranglers and the Phoenix RoadRunners ended with a 3-1 victory for the home team. Although Annie had initially balked at the tickets, she enjoyed the game, the hot dog, and the beer more that she would ever admit. Much to Jim's surprise, she also enjoyed the fights that erupted throughout the game.

"I forgot how much fun it is to go to a hockey game. Much better than watching it on TV." They were strolling arm-in-arm through the brightly lit parking lot, a Wranglers t-shirt slung over Annie's shoulder.

"I remember watching games on our old RCA console. Half the time you'd lose sight of the puck and next thing you knew, it was in the net. I think that's why we went to so many games."

"You played in high school, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I started in Peewee so I think I was maybe 11. I was too small but I was a good skater and I was quick."

"How long did you play?"

"I played all through high school and then when I got out of the Marines I needed to hit something so I played in beer leagues for a couple of years while I was in college."

"So no dream of playing in the big leagues?"

"Back when I played in high school, the NHL Entry Draft was still taking guys on the smaller side, like me. But when I played in college they were going after the bigger guys. Hell, in the beer leagues I was getting out-muscled by guys a good six inches taller than me. I had a lot of pent up anger so I could hold my own but my sophomore year in college I got boarded, broke my arm and my nose and that was the end of my hockey career."

"So my lucky punch wasn't the first time you broke your nose?" They had arrived at his car but stood beside the passenger door.

Double-clicking the unlock button, he opened the door for her. "No, honey, that wasn't the first time."

Sliding into the seat, she said, "It does explain why you snore though."

Smirking, he closed the door and sauntered around to the driver's side and slid in behind the wheel. "I snore?"

Patting his thigh, she said, "You do but it's manageable."

Firing up the powerful car engine, he cast a sideways glance at her. Slowly she turned to look at him and without saying a word, he knew. This was what it felt like to be in love.


	8. Chapter 8

The Half Moon was several exits down the I-15 from the Orleans Arena but even off duty, Jim Brass drove like a cop, weaving through traffic like he was on his way to a call. Between tourists in rental cars, tour buses, and the casino shifts, Las Vegas didn't have a standard rush hour. Brass still remembered his surprise the first time he encountered major traffic at two in the morning and realized it was just the shift change at the MGM Grand. Now he was used to it.

It was almost 10:30 when they pulled into a parking spot in between Grissom's Mercedes and Catherine's SUV. Jim got out of the car and smoothed down his shirt. He didn't usually wear a pressed, buttoned down to a hockey game but he figured he might dress it up just a bit for the Half Moon. The team wasn't used to an unkempt Jim Brass. With his Hugo Boss suits and French cuff shirts, he'd always been quite fastidious about his appearance at work but on his days off he tended to avoid the razor and anything that required a hanger. Maybe that was why he rarely joined them in their group outings. He didn't want to tarnish their image of him too much.

The Half Moon was an old-school Vegas lounge, darkly lit, with mirrors lining the walls, and cozy, intimate booths upholstered in red leather surrounding a parquet dance floor and a small stage for a band. Catherine, first to notice their arrival, waved them over to the large, round table. Jim expected to see Warrick, Nick, Sara, and Greg but Grissom's presence was a surprise. Normally, he was as elusive as Jim when it came to team functions but lately Brass had noticed a change in the supervisor and he was pretty sure it had everything to do with Sara.

Jim held out the chair next to Catherine for Annie and took a seat on the other side of her, next to Warrick.

A buxom blonde waitress in a short black dress leaned over and wrapped her arm around Jim's shoulder. "Hiya, handsome, how you been?"

Jim knew all eyes, especially Annie's were on him, but he didn't care. There were only a handful of bars, restaurants, and casinos left in Las Vegas where the homicide detective wasn't a familiar face. "Hey, Sandy, how's the kid?"

"Not in jail, thanks to you. That talk you had with him seems to have made an impression. What can I get you?"

Jim looked at Annie then to the waitress. "How about a Pinot Noir for her and a Maker's Mark for me." He might have had a reputation as a Scotch man but he also appreciated a good Kentucky bourbon.

"You got it." Leaning in, Sandy whispered something in Jim's ear.

"Yeah, she is," he answered with a grin, his gaze fixed on Annie.

Sandy stood up and smiled at Annie. "You take good care of our boy, here."

Jim shrugged. "She's a single mom with a teenage son fast tracking it to jail. She asked me to have a talk with him so I got in his face. She said he's keeping his nose clean so it seems to have worked."

The band had been on a break when Jim and Annie arrived and ten minutes later the men calling themselves the Benny Crane Quartet were making their way to the small stage. As the lead singer crooned "Fly Me to the Moon", Annie nudged Jim. "I think they knew you were coming." Jim was a Jersey-boy and like most guys his age from Newark, he loved Sinatra.

"Hey, Jim," Catherine said, "if Annie doesn't mind, how about dancing with me?"

Jim glanced at Annie, who gave him a very amused smile.

Pushing out his chair, he came around to Catherine. "Promise you'll let me lead?" he asked holding out his hand to her.

"Not a chance," she answered, slipping her hand into his and winking at Annie.

Watching as Jim lead Catherine to the dance floor, Warrick pushed out his chair. "So how about it, Captain Kramer?"

"Only if you'll call me Annie." Given that he was already out of his chair, he obviously was not going to take no for an answer.

"So, you and Annie?" Catherine asked, sliding her hand over his shoulder.

It didn't take being a detective to know that Catherine had an ulterior motive when she'd asked him to dance. But that didn't mean he was going to make it easy for her. "What about me and Annie?"

"Don't go defensive on me. I'm happy for you."

"Happy for me?" He glanced over Catherine's right shoulder at Warrick smoothly leading Annie around the dance floor. "Why?"

Catherine stopped and held him at arm's length, giving him an incredulous look that made him think he might have offended her. "Because you're my friend. You've been through a shit storm lately and I'd like to see something fall your way for once."

Brass smiled, genuinely touched by her words, and brought his attention back to the beautiful strawberry blonde. "Thanks, Catherine. That means a lot. I figured Warrick would tell you all about her."

"He's not told me anything other than she's an old friend."

Brass made a mental note to thank Warrick. "Yeah, we worked together in Vice for a while."

"She knew you when you had hair."

"She knew me when I was still married." He wasn't going to say what that meant; he'd let Catherine figure it out. "Annie transferred to L.A. a few years before I came out here. When Ellie got into trouble about seven or eight months ago, I called Annie and she helped me out. Things just," he trailed off with a sheepish look.

"Picked up where they left off?" Catherine was giving him a raised eyebrow that told him she knew.

He shrugged. "Yeah."

Catherine smiled at him. "Jim, I'm not going to condemn you because you had an affair. I know what your marriage was like. If anything, you should have walked away long before you did."

"It's just I know how you feel about that."

"How I feel about it doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does, Cath. It matters to me."

"Why?"

Jim licked his bottom lip. "I always felt like with our marriages and our divorces, you and me, we had this kinship that the others didn't have."

"And we still have it. Look, circumstances were different for you than they were for me. I'm not judging you." The song had ended but instead of walking back to their table, Catherine rested her hands on Jim's shoulders and leaned in. "If Annie makes you happy, I'm happy for you." She looked over his shoulder at the looks they were getting from the table. "We'd better get back or they're going to start a rumor about us."

Offering her his elbow, he laughed. "Don't worry. I tried starting that rumor a few years ago. They didn't believe me."

Settling into the chair next to Annie, Jim picked up the tumbler and took a sip of whiskey. Warrick had returned to his seat and appeared to be telling her a story that involved several hand gestures. Jim caught enough of it to know it was about him and leaned back in the chair, sipping his drink and watching the dynamics at the table. Catherine leaned forward, both elbows resting on the table, listening in on the conversation and occasionally casting a smile and a wink his way. Grissom sat next to Sara, who was engaged in a discussion with Nick and Greg. Gil wasn't participating but the fact that he was intently watching Sara wasn't lost on Jim. Jim had a hunch for a while there was something between the two CSI's but he wasn't going to raise the issue with either of them. Lord knew Grissom needed more in his life than his bugs and Sara, well, more than once Jim had seen a reckless side of her that made him want to keep an eye on her. If Gil provided some sort of stability in her life, then Jim was all for it.

Wrapping up the final strains of "Luck Be a Lady", Jim immediately recognized the start of the next song. Resting his hand on Annie's shoulder, he leaned into the conversation. "Sorry to interrupt but," he gestured towards the dance floor with his head. "Would you like to dance?" He stood up and held his hand out to her.

Slipping her hand into his, she smiled at him. "How can I refuse?"

Not letting go of her hand as he led her to the dance floor, he took her right hand in his, palms touching, while his other hand slid around her waist and rested firmly in the middle of her back. Her hand slipped over the crest of his shoulder and to the dulcet tones of "The Way You Look Tonight" their dance began. He held her gaze as they melded into perfect rhythm.

"You weren't kidding; you really can dance."

He pressed his body closer until his forehead was touching hers. "Honey, I got moves that would put Michael Jackson to shame."

Annie leaned forward and laughing against his lips, kissed him. "I love you."

Smiling, he pressed his cheek to hers and continued to slowly lead her around the dance floor. He didn't care that the song ended a few minutes later and the band had yet to start the next one or that they were the only couple on the dance floor and the entire night shift of the Las Vegas crime scene investigation unit were watching them. Jim Brass didn't get a lot of moments like this. In a few days she would leave and he would be alone again, drowning in the emptiness that was his life, so he was going to enjoy it for as long as he could.

Letting go of her hand, he slipped both hands around her waist. "Thanks for not asking me how it went this morning with Guerrero."

Annie draped her hands over his shoulders. "Well, I was going to ask you when I got home from the spa but I was overcome by events."

"Good distraction." Hearing the first few chords of "I Only Have Eyes for You," Jim raised his brows in a silent _let's keep dancing_ gesture.

"Great distraction." She slid her hand along his shoulder and rested it on his cheek, her thumb stroking the rough beard. "So I take it you didn't punch him?"

"I wanted to but no, I didn't punch him."

Greg slumped forward, his chin resting on the palm of his hand as he watched the couple sway in place on the dance floor. "Does it bother you to think that Brass is probably having more sex than we are?"

Nick sat back in his chair and made a face into his beer. "I make it a habit to try not to think about Brass having sex."

"Speak for yourself, Greg," Sara said, getting up from the table, ignoring the looks from both Greg and Nick.

"Wait, Sara's having sex?" Greg said, oblivious to the smirk on Grissom's face.

"Hey, Jim," Catherine said, tucking away her cell phone as Brass and Annie made their way back to the table. "Vega just called. Said to tell you he's taking Guerrero before the judge tomorrow and with the evidence for premeditated murder he won't get bail."

Jim's hand went to the middle of Annie's back, gently guiding her to her chair, and then paused. "Good. With my testimony and that of the witnesses, he should get the needle."

"What happens to the little girl?" Nick asked.

Brass gripped the back of the empty chair next to Annie and flexed his arms. "Her mom's sister is driving down from Reno." He shrugged. "Kid's been through a lot. Hopefully, her aunt will take her. No guarantee though."

"So she could end up in foster care?" Nick asked, already shaking his head.

Brass looked down at the empty leather seat then looked up through his eyebrows. "Yeah, but Sam said the aunt seemed concerned about her so he thinks she'll take her back to Reno." Slowly sinking into the chair, he felt Annie's hand on his thigh. Leaning back in the chair, he slid his hand over hers and gave it a brief squeeze.

"Oh," Catherine said, drawing out what she was about to say, "Sam also said to tell you she named the bear, Mr. Brass."

Resting her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand, Annie turned towards him and smiled. "Told you it looked like you."

Brass brought the glass to his lips. "I guess I'm not all that intimidating after all," he said before taking a sip.

The entire table looked at him in silence before erupting in laughter.

**-xxx-**

Jim sat back in his chair and checked his watch. Nearly two hours had gone by and he was tired and sore. He hadn't mentioned it to Annie yet but he had an appointment with his PEAP counselor in the morning. As part of the fall-out for the shooting, he had to attend twelve sessions with a psychological counselor or what cops commonly referred to as the _squirrel_ doctor. The only thing he could figure is that someone had the idea he might be so distraught that he'd kill himself and the sheriff didn't want him to be any more of a liability than he already was. Surprisingly, the thought of eating his gun had never entered his mind. But he did know a guy back in Jersey who had quietly gone to his locker after an IA investigation, took out his service revolver, and killed himself. Shaking his head at the memory, Jim liked to think that would never happen to him no matter how bad things got. Then again, maybe it would be different if he didn't have the support he had here in Las Vegas.

He'd never had this kind of camaraderie back in New Jersey, even before he'd become a pariah. He genuinely liked these people; he cared about them and they seemed to care about him. They'd become his family and although the thought of packing it in and moving to Los Angeles did hold a certain appeal, he wasn't ready to go. Sara, Nick, Grissom, hell, even Warrick and Catherine, they all needed him to look out for them. And quite honestly, he needed them to look out for him.

"You know, Jim, you had me a little worried when I first saw you," Nick was saying, looking at Jim as he spoke.

Broken from his reverie, Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

"I never saw anyone so blue! You looked like a Smurf."

"To Papa Smurf!" Warrick said, holding up his glass in a toast as the others joined in.

Jim smiled at the new moniker. "Yeah, I definitely felt like a Smurf."

Nick fixed his gaze on Brass. "I mean it, Jim. Glad you were at the right place at the right time. That little girl wouldn't have had a chance otherwise."

"Thanks, Nicky," he said, ducking his head and feeling more than a little embarrassed. "I just did what anyone would do." He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like they were making him out to be something he wasn't. He was still the cop who killed another cop. Not enough time had passed to be anything else. Not by his way of thinking anyway.

Pushing out his chair, he smiled at the group and excused himself. Starting towards the men's room, he veered to the right and went out the front entrance into the crisp night air. Leaning against the side of the building, he sucked in mouthfuls of air and again fought the urge to punch something. He hated this feeling of self-loathing but he knew that to feel anything else was just a ruse. He'd used Annie as a shield, used her presence to deflect the feelings of guilt that still remained. He wished he could be the kind of man who was oblivious to his errors; the kind of man who could put it all behind him and move on. But he'd never been that man. He bore the weight of every mistake he'd ever made but none were heavier than this one. No, Jim Brass had not yet done his penance and not even fishing Rosie Guerrero out of the water could help resolve that.

**-xxx-**

Jim was still leaning against the building, staring up at the night sky, when the door opened and Gil Grissom came out, car keys in hand. "Jim? Are you okay?" the CSI Supervisor asked, coming over to join the detective.

Jim pushed away from the wall. "Gil, yeah," he rubbed the side of his nose, "yeah, I'm fine."

Grissom had known Jim Brass ever since the detective had come to Las Vegas. He'd worked for Jim when he was the supervisor over CSI and he'd commiserated over a number of cases, suspects, and victims with Jim and the bottle of single malt he kept in his desk drawer. While Grissom wouldn't say he and Jim were the kind of friends who went to movies or had dinner every other Thursday, Grissom would still count Brass as one of his closest friends. It was for that reason Grissom wanted to be the one to tell Jim it was his bullet that killed Bell. He knew how Jim would take the news. To have it come from anyone else would have just pushed the dagger in deeper. Gil had been worried about his friend but Jim seemed to be dealing with it - at least outwardly.

"So, uh, you taking off?"

Grissom recognized the forced smile. He'd seen it quite a lot lately. "Hodges just called."

"This that Hollister case?"

"Yes." Grissom started to leave and then hesitated. "Jim, if there's anything…"

Brass waved him off. "I just needed some air."

It didn't take a CSI as good as Gil Grissom to figure out Jim was lying but he understood. His friend had been through a rough couple of months and even though they all liked to think the worst was over, Gil knew it would never really be over for Jim. He knew it the day he'd given him the news. Nodding, Grissom hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "You should go back inside. You have a lot of friends in there and one in particular is going to start worrying."

"Yeah, you're right."

Watching as Jim headed for the door, Grissom called out to him once more. "I can't say I know how you're feeling because I don't. But I understand the guilt. Don't let it eat away at you."

Brass smiled wanly before disappearing inside. Watching him go, Grissom felt the buzz of his cell phone and sighed irritably. Taking the device from his pocket, he didn't have to look at the screen to know who was calling. "I'm on my way, David," he said, rolling his eyes as he unlocked the car door.

**-xxx-**

Jim headed back inside, sliding into the chair next to Annie. He didn't have to look at her to know she was looking at him. He was ready to go and was about to tell her when Nick, who had just returned to the table, came over and leaned in next to him.

"Hey, Jim, I'm sorry if I said something to upset you."

Jim could tell by the sincere look on Nick's face that he truly was apologetic, even if he wasn't quite sure what he'd said. "It's okay, Nick. I just…"

Nick held up one hand then rested it on Jim's shoulder. "You don't have to explain anything to me. Just don't sell yourself short, okay? I know you're still feeling bad about what happened but you're a good man, a good cop. Don't ever forget that."

Trying to stave off a welling of emotion, Brass nodded tightly. Just like Annie said, these people really did have his back. He just needed to remember not to turn it on them. "Thanks, thanks a lot. I appreciate that."

"Captain Kramer," Nick said, turning to Annie and sticking out his hand. "Very nice to meet you. I uh," he glanced towards Brass and smiled, "hope to see you around Vegas again."

"Nice to meet you too, Nick."

As the party began to disband, Jim pushed out his chair and slowly got to his feet, then stepped aside as Annie joined him.

"Annie," Warrick said, remembering her request to call her by her first name, his arms extended for a hug. "If you ever decide to dump this guy," he said, nodding at Brass, "give me a call."

Brass took a menacing step forward and flashed a look that could make a hardened criminal cower, even when they were a good six inches taller than he was.

Laughing, Warrick held his hands up. "It's cool, it's cool," he said, giving Jim a pat on the arm. Heading for the door where Nick was waiting, he stopped halfway and turned back towards the group, making a phone gesture with this thumb and pinkie. "Call me," he mouthed to Annie, then turned and quickly shuffled out the door.

While Annie chatted with Sara and Greg, Catherine strolled over to Jim and pulled him tightly into a hug. Whispering into his ear, she said, "I really hope it works out for you and Annie."

Backing away, but still holding the embrace, he shook his head. "I don't know, Cath. It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicated it," she said, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go of him.

Giving her a sad smile, he sighed. "It's not that easy. She's not convinced a long distance relationship can work and I think she might be right. I've been thinking about retiring and moving to L.A.," Jim noticed Catherine's surprise at his admission but didn't react. "But I'm not sure I'm ready to do that."

"Jim, I had no idea you were even considering retiring."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged. "Some days I think about it more than others."

"Like when a woman is shot right in front of you?"

Looking down at his shoes, he didn't want to admit that while he felt bad for Rosie Guerrero, he had a hard time feeling anything for Brenda Guerrero. Instead, he said simply, "Yeah." Looking up, he saw Annie coming over. "You ready to go?"

"Did you tell him?" Annie's question was directed at Catherine, much to Jim's surprise.

"Tell me what?" he asked, looking from Annie to Catherine and then back to Annie.

"Catherine and I were talking about the concert tomorrow night. She's been trying to get Celine Dion tickets for weeks and well, would you be too disappointed if she went to the concert with me?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I didn't think you would be."

"Honey," he put his hand in the middle of her back, guiding her towards the door. "You know I would go with you…"

"But I'm giving you an out and you'll take it."

"Yes." Stepping into the chilly night air, the three walked together across the parking lot. Jim unlocked the car for Annie and then walked with Catherine to her car. "You okay to drive home?"

Catherine slid into the cold driver's seat, started the engine and turned on the heat. "I'm fine, officer."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what they all say." Rubbing the back of his head, he wondered if he was okay to drive home. It had been a very long day and he was tired.

"Tell Annie I'll pick her up around 6pm tomorrow. Dinner's on me."

"I will. Be safe." As she closed the door, one more thing occurred to him, causing him to knock on her window. She started to hit the power but he waved her off. "Thank you."

The warm smile he got in return was the only answer he needed.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** My apologies for the delay in posting. I got some very bad news regarding one of my furkids that kind of set me on my ear. Then when I thought I was ready to post, I found a major error that required a pretty significant rewrite. _

_Also, I didn't get to thank everyone personally but I very much appreciate your reviews. Thank you very much!_

* * *

><p>The drive home had been in a nice, companionable silence. Annie could tell he was tired so she hesitated bringing up something that had been niggling at her since his disappearance at the club. Pulling into the driveway, he shut off the engine and exited the car with an audible grunt. She didn't wait for him to come around to her door, meeting him halfway, and following him inside the dark house.<p>

"Probably should have left a light on," he said, heading into the kitchen and then emerging seconds later with the bags of frozen peas and corn.

Annie trailed into the kitchen for a bottle of cold water and by the time she got to the bedroom, he'd already stripped down to his underwear and was lying in bed with his eyes closed, both bags of frozen vegetables plastered against his ribs. At least he'd thought to leave the light on for her. A few minutes later and she was sliding into bed but giving him plenty of space. She'd thought he was asleep until she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want you so far away."

For a minute she wondered if there was more to that than just sleeping on the other side of the bed. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. Come over here."

Scooting closer, she snuggled against his left side, feeling the warmth of his body.

"That's better."

She'd been on the brink of sleep when the sound of his voice woke her.

"Do you ever think about what it might have been like if Evan had lived?"

His question surprised her for many reasons but mostly because it came now, out of the blue, when she'd thought he was asleep. "Yes, I think about it a lot. Not as often as I used to but a lot."

"I think about it too."

"You do?" She realized that while she'd had years to grieve the loss of her child, Jim hadn't.

"Yeah, I wonder what it might have been like to have a second chance at being a dad. I didn't do so well with a daughter but that's because I'm over-protective. I might have been a better with a son." His voice cracked slightly. "I could have taught him to play hockey or maybe baseball – some kids don't pick up on skating. Ellie never did."

"You are a good dad, Jimmy. Ellie never appreciated what you tried to do for her."

"I over-compensated. I couldn't control Nancy so I tried to control Ellie. She was too much like her mother and I was, well, I am a cop. I saw what happened to young girls with parents who didn't care. I didn't want that to happen to her and look where that got her?"

"It got her a father who gives a shit, not like that sperm donor Mike O'Toole. You're a good dad. Don't ever think otherwise." She rolled over to face him. "I mean it, Jimmy. There's only so much you can do for your kids. At some point they are responsible for the choices they make. Ellie made bad choices."

He'd gone quiet again and she thought he'd finally drifted off to sleep when he spoke again. "I'm sorry. I really fucked things up with you."

"Well, if we're playing the apology game, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Evan sooner." Propping herself up on one elbow, she tried to keep the irritation from her voice. "Look, we can go back and forth with what ifs but it doesn't change anything. It won't undo the past. We both did what we thought was right at the time."

"I know. You're right."

Raking her hand over his chest, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Good, now go to sleep."

"Annie?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for having a little faith in me. As a dad, I mean."

"Honey," she said, scooting closer to him, "I have a whole lot of faith in you."

**-xxx-**

Annie looked over the top of her mug. "You never mentioned you were meeting with your counselor this morning," she said then sipped her coffee.

He was standing at the stove, making scrambled eggs. "Didn't I? Sorry, I meant to tell you."

"No problem. I'll do some laundry. Change the sheets on the bed – if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. There's a clean set in the linen closet." He dished a healthy spatula full of eggs onto a plate then slid it along with a fork over to Annie.

"To be honest, I'm glad you're going today. There are some things you need to talk about."

Sliding the rest of the eggs onto his plate, he asked, "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

She set down her mug and picked up the fork. "Don't think I haven't noticed that twice you've reacted to something someone has said about saving Rosie. First it was Brenda Guerrero calling you a hero and then it was Nick last night. Where did you go anyway because I know it wasn't the men's room?"

He stabbed at a lump of egg and laughed somewhat incredulously. "What, you send someone in to find me?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "No, but I wasn't the only one at the table who missed you. What's bothering you, Jimmy?"

He'd like to say he wished he'd never pulled onto the shoulder that fateful night but he knew that wasn't true. If he hadn't been there Rosie Guerrero would have certainly drowned. But doing what he did came with praise he couldn't accept. Setting down the fork, shaking his head at his own inner dialog, he sucked in a deep breath and then let it out quickly. If he was going to make this work with Annie, he needed to be honest – something he wasn't always with Nancy. "When I was in that water, you want to know the one thing that went through my head? _Please God don't let me fail._ That's it. I was afraid of failing. I was afraid that if I didn't get that little girl out of there alive, I'd just solidify my place as the department fuck up."

Annie came around the island and slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. "You're not a fuck up. You made a mistake, a mistake anyone could have made."

"But it was me. I knew better. I knew the protocol." He tried to wriggle free from her grasp but she wasn't letting go. And he was okay with that.

She drew back just enough to put one hand in the center of his chest. "Yes, and we both know that sometimes protocol gets a little blurred, especially when you're in the middle of a gun fight. But they cleared you. I know it's not that easy for you. I know you will live with what happened every day of your life but I also know that you are a good, honest man. If you weren't, I wouldn't be here." Letting him go, she patted his stomach. "Now, eat your eggs before they get too cold."

He did feel a little better. He heard what Nick had said and he really did appreciate it but hearing it from Annie, knowing that she had faith in him, meant more than he could ever say. Taking a forkful of cold eggs, he decided to change the subject. "So I take it you and Catherine hit it off."

Pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee, she topped off Jim's mug as well. "We did. I like your team, Jimmy. They're good guys, all of them."

"Yeah, it was a little bumpy in the beginning, when I was head of CSI, but we've all grown up a lot. Through this whole thing with the shooting, they've stood by me. Every one of them."

"That's good. You need that kind of support. Lord knows you never got it in Newark." Annie was quiet for a few miles before asking a question. "Grissom and Sara, how long have they been together?"

Jim's head turned quickly. "So you picked up on that too?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Whatever's going on, they're trying to keep it on the DL but," he shook his head and laughed, "funny thing is I don't think any of his team has picked up on it."

"Just the detectives."

He looked over at her and grinned. "Well, it is our job to detect." He took one last mouthful of egg and washed it down with coffee then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I better get going or I'll be late and I'm sure my counselor will want to read something into that."

**-xxx-**

Walking into the small waiting room of his PEAP counselor, Jim checked in with the receptionist and then settled into one of the plush leather chairs most likely purchased with funds provided by the LVPD. Unlike most officers who were sent to the Police Employee Assistance Program within LVPD and assigned a Peer Counselor, Jim's case was deemed special because of the circumstances and he was assigned to a psychological counselor. Although he thought the sessions were a complete waste of time, at least Dr. Erika Kraft's office was not within LVPD, like the Peer Counselors were, so no one else in the department had to know he was in counseling.

Rubbing the tips of his fingers along the soft leather arms, it wasn't long before Dr. Kraft appeared in the doorway. "Captain Brass?"

Following her into the familiar office, he took a seat on another leather chair and wondered if she got a volume discount on black leather chairs.

Taking a chair opposite him, she asked, "How was your Christmas?"

"I'm going to guess you really don't want to know if Santa brought me my favorite toy. You want to know if I went on a bender."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Glad to hear it. Holidays can be particularly rough. Have you experienced any sleeplessness?"

Thinking of Annie, Jim chuckled.

"This question amuses you?"

"Kind of."

"Want to tell me why?"

"Not really." He didn't intend to be belligerent but he couldn't help it. He told himself he was doing this for Annie but his sense of cooperation went out the window with her first innocuous question.

She tilted her head at him and scribbled on her notepad. He knew from experience that scribbling on a notepad was never good.

"Do you find yourself dwelling on the shooting?"

"Who has time?" Answer a question with a question, yeah, that was going to win him some points.

"Do you find it hard to concentrate on day to day tasks because of the incident?"

He smirked at her use of the word, _incident_. "Not any more, no." She was testing his patience.

"But you did?"

"Sure. It's not something you can just file away. Whether it's a guy with a gun shooting at you or a rookie cop who just happened to stand up at the same time you did, killing someone tends to stay with you."

"Do you feel that way with everyone you've shot?"

"You make it sound like I've shot a lot of people."

"Have you?"

He nodded towards the file resting on the table in front of her. "I bet you can answer that question."

Another note scribbled. "Are you continuing to experience guilt?" She'd finally poked the bear.

"What do you think? I shot and killed a man, a police officer with a wife and three little kids. Three little kids who didn't have their daddy there on Christmas morning and it's my fault!" As he spoke, his voice grew louder until he was out of his chair and shouting at her. To her credit she never flinched; never even lifted her pen from the notebook. Rubbing the back of his head he could feel the start of a tension headache. "Look, if you ever shot anyone, especially one of your own, you'd know it's not something you get over. Ever." She finally looked up from the notepad and he quickly locked eyes with her. "It's with you every day for the rest of your life. You dwell on it and you feel guilty about it but if you're lucky, you don't have people reminding you of it and you can eventually put it behind you." She broke his gaze first, looking away before scribbling more notes, but at least Brass felt a sense of accomplishment.

He hated these sessions, hated having to explain why he became a cop, how he felt when he fired his weapon, if he was drinking more, or if he'd become withdrawn and full of despair. He'd told her in the first session that this was a waste of time and that he had no intention of eating his gun. He was tempted to tell her that if she really wanted to fix him, maybe she should ask him how it felt to have a woman gunned down right in front of him. How it felt to get splattered with her blood and why it bothered him that he didn't feel any remorse for her.

"Why don't you sit down and tell me how you got that," she pointed at his face," black eye."

"I was starting to think you didn't notice." Slowly, he took a seat in the chair once again.

"Looks like you got into a fight."

"You want to know if one of the guys took a jab at me?"

"Did they? Have you gotten any backlash at work?"

"I don't pay attention to that stuff." He did pay attention and while there was no backlash, there were certainly looks and whispers whenever he walked down the hall.

"So how did it happen?"

He slid his hand over the back of his head. "My face ran into a suspect's fist."

"Looks like it hurt."

"Ever have somebody punch you in the face? Not one of the most pleasant things I've ever experienced."

She cocked an eyebrow at him and scribbled more notes but he could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

He ran his hands over the smooth arms of the chair. "You don't watch the news, do you?"

"I'm sorry, I was out of town."

"There was a shooting at Desert Palms. Guy found out his wife had been cheating on him, shot her point blank in front of a cop."

"And you were there to investigate?"

"I was the cop."

She looked up at him, the shock registering on her face. "That had to have been horrific."

Leaning forward in the chair, he tiredly rubbed his right eye. "You'd think."

"But you don't feel traumatized by it?"

He shrugged. "Not really."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I used to feel. I used feel for weeks and months and years. But homicide detectives don't last too long if they don't learn to compartmentalize their feelings." He saw her raised eyebrows and smirked. "It sounds cold but that's just how it is. You keep feeling and one day you take your service revolver into a dark room and blow your brains out."

"That's why I'm here."

He shook his head. "Most of the guys like that fly under the radar. They don't have anything in their jacket and then one day," he made a gun with his thumb and forefinger. "You get a reputation as a hard ass. People say you're jaded, that you don't feel or care about the suspects or the victims for that matter, but that saves you. That's what it takes to do the job. You have to de-sensitize yourself to what you see; detach yourself from the victims, the suspects, the horrors that you see every god-damned day." He'd had enough. "We done here?" he asked, getting to his feet.

Scribbling more notes, no doubt putting some kind of notation by his name, she looked up at him from her chair. "If that's what you want, yes. I'll see you in two weeks." She stood up with him. "Happy New Year, Captain Brass."

"I can only hope next year is better than this one." He started for the door, hesitating as his hand reached the handle. Being forced to see the squirrel doctor grated on him but the department was paying her to listen to his problems and Annie seemed to think it was working so he might as well suck it up and make sure they got their money's worth. "Look, I know our session is over but there's something else."

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Technically, your session isn't over for another twenty minutes. Please, sit down."

Jim hovered, not really wanting to sit. For this he needed to pace. "It's related to what I said earlier, about the woman who was shot. The guy who found out his wife had been cheating on him, he shot his wife because he found out his kid wasn't his. And that guy? He could have been me. My wife cheated on me. I have a daughter, she's not mine but I raised her like she was. I can't honestly say that I didn't have the same thoughts about killing my wife when I found out."

"But you didn't act on those thoughts."

"No, I didn't. I didn't act on them because I'm a cop and it's my job to uphold and enforce the law. If I were just a regular guy, I can't say what I would have done." Running his hand over the back of his head, he looked down at the carpet. "This guy, not only did he shoot his wife but he tried to kill his daughter." He recounted the events of the night he pulled Rosie Guerrero from the wash and when the doctor started to comment, he held up his hand to stop her. "Like I said, my daughter she's not my kid and yeah, I did have some pretty dark thoughts about my wife when I found out, but even after all that, I tried to keep the marriage going. I never stopped loving my little girl and I could never imagine doing anything as heinous as what this guy did just because his wife slept around. Sometimes, when I see the shit that people, parents, do to their kids, I think," he stopped pacing and ran his hand over his face, "I think maybe I can't do this job any more. I think I've seen all the bad that men are capable of, and then I see something like this. A guy tries to throw away his kid because she's not his daughter?" Feeling the anger well up, he shook his head. "Something like that happens and I'm glad I'm a cop. I'm glad I got to take him down and I'm glad that we have enough evidence to get this scumbag the needle." He paused, wondering if she was going to offer up some sage advice, surprised when she seemed to be content to let him talk. So he continued. "Between this and Bell's death I've been giving serious thought to packing it all in. My girlfriend," he cringed at the slip but continued, hoping she wouldn't quiz him about it, "she's a detective in another state. She's as good as said that if I retired, she'd marry me and I want that, I really do. But now," he shook his head. "I can't walk away from the job now. I've made mistakes but I'm a good cop." Surprised at his own admission, he smirked and said it again. "I'm a good cop."

For the first time that he could remember she smiled at him. "It sounds like you've resolved your conflict."

He thought about what she said then slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Sometimes you just need to hear yourself say it out loud."

Nodding, Brass made his way to the door.

"Jim?"

He turned, raising an eyebrow at being addressed by his first name for the first time since he'd started his sessions. Then again, it was the first time that he'd really opened up to her so maybe he earned it.

"You still feel."

He stared at her for a long beat before managing to give her a tight smile. "Thanks. I'll see you in two weeks. Happy New Year."

Jim left the counselor's office feeling a little less conflicted. He knew now more than ever that he wasn't ready to retire but he also knew he wasn't willing to abandon the present and future with Annie. Despite her concerns, somehow he was going to figure out how to make this _relationship_ work. Walking to his car, fishing his keys from his pocket, he realized he was within walking distance of the hospital. Slipping his keys back into his pocket, he made a quick decision.

**-xxx-**

The nurse on duty recognized him right away. "Captain Brass, it's good to see you again. Are you here to see Rosie?"

"I, uh, was just around the corner and thought I'd stop by to see her. How's she been?"

The nurse's expression changed from a smile to a deep, angry frown. "She doesn't understand why her mommy hasn't been by to see her."

Years as a detective told Brass that the woman was holding something back. "And?"

"What do you tell a four year old? Your daddy stopped by and instead of coming to see you, shot your mommy outside your room?" She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't get people."

"That's usually my line," he said with a chuckle. Glancing over to his right, to the spot where the shooting took place, he noticed an orange cone cautioning against what he wasn't sure. All traces of Brenda Guerrero's blood were long gone, replaced by the all too familiar smell of disinfectant. "Has her aunt shown up yet?"

"No, not yet. And no one's been by to see her either so I hope that's why you're here."

The stern look on her face told him in no uncertain terms that he was going into that room. Luckily, that had been his plan all along. "Has she had lunch yet?"

"No, but they should be around shortly. We've had quite a time getting her to eat anything. She's a very picky eater and of course, this is hospital food."

"Okay, can you hold off? I'll be back in a few minutes." Jim left and returned half an hour later carrying a bag from the McDonald's he'd passed on the walk over.

Smiling as he emerged from the elevator, the nurse said, "I'd about given up on you."

Jim held up the bag. "I don't know any kid who doesn't like chicken McNuggets. And don't worry," he said, heading towards Rosie's room, "I got her milk and apple slices so it's not all bad."

**-xxx-**

Coming through the side door, Jim came into the house and immediately noticed how clean the place was. It wasn't that he never cleaned – he wasn't lying when he'd said he cleaned toilets, did the laundry, and dusted – but with the hours he'd been putting in lately, he hadn't had a chance to do more than put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. "Honey," he called out, "I'm home!"

Annie appeared in the doorway of his study, a book in hand. "I was starting to wonder."

"I have a confession to make. I cheated on you today with another woman."

"Oh yeah?"

He could tell by the quirk of her eyebrow that she wasn't buying it. "Yeah, and I gotta say, she's got a killer smile."

Coming over to him, Annie gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "You smell like French Fries."

"Well, she's got pretty refined taste."

Annie shook her head. "Okay, who is this mystery woman?"

"Rosie Guerrero. The hospital is a couple of blocks from my PEAP counselor so I went by to see her."

"How is she? Has her aunt arrived yet? That gets you another kiss, by the way." She leaned in and gave him a much longer, much deeper kiss.

Pulling away, his hands resting on her shoulders, he shook his head. "No sign of the aunt yet and she's doing okay, I guess. Kids that age are pretty resilient but I can't help but think she's going to be spending a lot of time with a therapist at some point."

"Well, I'm glad you went to see her."

"She asked about you."

"She did?"

"Yeah," he said, walking to the kitchen, taking a beer from the refrigerator, and twisting off the top. "She wanted to know why my wife didn't come with me this time."

Annie laughed. "Your wife?"

Setting down the bottle, "I told her the truth so," he reached into his pocket, "she gave me this to give to you." He handed her the toy from Rosie's Happy Meal, a small Build-A-Bear. "That is Pawlette Coufur and Rosie said she belongs with," he pulled out another toy from his other pocket, "Teddy. This one was in my Happy Meal."

Annie accepted the toy, still laughing. "You had a Happy Meal too?"

He shrugged. "Sure. We had a picnic on her bed. Anyway, according to a four year old, Rosie Pawlette and Teddy are made for each other."

Shaking her head and smiling, Annie said, "Rosie is one smart little girl."

Jim walked over to Annie and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Yeah, she really is."


End file.
